Sweet Serendipity

This week has been a right one for dealing with incompetent people. Insurance documents not being sent out, people not being able to understnad that I am no longer Miss X but now Mrs B. And even after I tell them that, they still call me Miss X. How difficult is it to understand? But for them to change it formally, I have to send them my marriage certificate. I work in a hopsital. I know that if someone gets married and changes their name, we don't need to see the marriage certificate to change it on the system, and it's a fucking hospital. Ok so if they want to be so pedantic that they can't press a few buttons on the keyboard, ok, but at least after I tell you on the phone, call me Mrs B when you are speaking to me, not Miss X. That's MRS B!!!

It's been touch and go as to whether we get our new car today. Thankfully, we are. I think. Tom is there now. If he manages to get to the post office in time to tax it, we'll have it today. If not, then it's tough shit to us.

I hate having to depend on people for stuff. I hate that so much is out of my control and that I have to depend on people, who quite frankly don't give a fuck if I get my car tonight, or if I get my life insurance, because it's not their problem.

I came close to breaking point last night, but I managed to control myself. But after speaking to the bint (thats mild in comparrison the the other four lettered word that ends in T that I actually want to call her) at Scottish Provident today, who I am so tempted to name on here, and if enough people ask me to, then I will, I reaching breaking point and I cried. At work. And I hate doing that. But I feel so stupid because it sounds like such a little thing, but it's a little thing on top of a million other little things and it really was the straw that broke the camels back.

Deep breaths. It's the weekend, and I'm going to a recording studio tomorrow.