Forget Love, Hate and even maybe indifference – I have decided (therefore it must be true) that Disappointment is the strongest of all emotions known to man*.
*I’m guessing this doesn’t apply to animals because as we all know, the Bear is the beast we should all be aspiring to. S/he is not bothered about the weather. She wears her coat whatever the season whether it’s in fashion or not and doesn’t give a monkey’s what her cave-dweller friends think. In fact she probably doesn’t even have friends – she’s that un-bothered. Not fussed to the enth degree – timesed by infinity. Such a laid back Bear.I have left what others would deem perfectly respectable jobs and/or relationships based purely on levels of disappointment.
Does that mean that I have particularly exacting standards that are difficult to achieve without some kind of qualification? Not really. I just know what I like and my standards of ‘like’ are not way and above the normal levels anyone would expect of… well, anything really. Points in case:
1. I like a hot meal. If someone has spent a good few hours preparing, overseeing and presenting something on a plate that they consider worthy of eating, then the least I can do is eat it whilst it’s hot. I have felt my soul torn asunder by the simple act of someone dear leaving a plate of my lovingly prepared food until it is pretty much chilled and the feelings this induced were extreme. Cut to the quick doesn’t even go halfway.
2. I like a clean house. But, as you all know, I am not a stickler for housework per se. Of course, we all know dust levels achieve a certain level before they just give up so who am I to argue? I will not be the one to stand in the way of dust achieving its personal best. Cruel I am not. But I don’t like to be brought up on my standards of housekeeping and when told that the downstairs loo smells like a Gents, do not react favourably to this. Am I the only one in the house dextrous enough to grip a bottle of Bleach? This question disappoints me.
3. Specsavers were *this* close to getting some kind of communication from me about their levels of brilliantness. Their customer service has always been second to none, the smiles I have been greeted with and the cheery waves of goodbye and the utmost professionalism every worker seems to have, has absolutely bowled me over (no mean feat). Every time I’ve left their premises this year I have felt positively uplifted and certain that I shall return and even spread the word. Until yesterday. When the Girl and I had a pre-booked 2 hour contact lens appointment which they had somehow overlooked. Of course, the rest of the day had been carefully planned around our 2 hours appointment and from the minute their computer said ‘No’, the whole day fell to bits. Other planned things got messed up. Tears ensued. Cakes consumed.
I don’t ask for much. I’d like to be thanked by even one driver when I wait for them by a parked car to let them through. I’d have liked Specsavers to have gone out of their way – the way we’d gone out of our way to plan our day with military precision around an appointment with them – to have somehow redeemed themselves instead of making a different appointment. I’d like my hot meals eaten when they’re still at their best please. And I’d like not to be made to feel guilty about my standards of hygiene when I’m trying to write a goddamn book and still trying to catch up on two weeks worth of washing and ironing that didn’t get done because I wasn’t well.
Post-Bug Grouch? Yeah, that’s me.