Indiana Jones & the many things of doom

It’s probably not the best title for a movie, but it accurately describes the last few days as far as M & I are concerned –except without the hat and whip hot nazi chick.

The “simple installation” of the oven turned into a three-man-all-day event on Sunday and a couple more hours last night and it’s still not installed. Who would think that putting a shiny silver box into a space could be so difficult? Last night’s after-work 8pm installation session turned into a bit of a shouting match i.e. M yelled at me until I cried. He apologised and I felt silly for not being able to do anything but cry so eventually I stopped adding my ‘helpful’ opinions and left him to his own devices.

I’ve never handled being yelled at well, although I have toughed up a considerable amount to how I used to be. M doesn’t yell at me a lot, but when his levels of frustration hit peak he tends to want to express things at the top of his lungs – which may be effective if the person you are talking to is deaf, but I’m not, so my reaction tends to be one of ‘flight’ not stay and get yelled at more.

Part two of doom started this morning when it was an exceptionally chilly morning and warning lights on the car came on. Off we drove to the auto repair place to be told that the alternator was probably on its way out but we’d still be able to drive.


So we set off to work and stop to get some fuel and then the car won’t start.


So M calls a taxi to take him home to get the range rover and I walk back to the auto place, drop off the key for them to come and get said heap of shit car and wait for M to come and get me.


An hour later we’re still waiting in the freezing cold for said taxi.


So we call a friend who lives nearby (waking him up) and ask if he can come and get us and take us home.


But eventually finds us, we go home and set out to work again in the range rover that has a piece of plastic instead of glass over the rear window because it is getting fixed.


I arrive at work 30mins late and M arrives 1.5hrs late.


M gets a call at work to tell him that’s how much it’s going to fix so I guess that’s not too bad after all.



In other doom-related news, I woke up yesterday with a really sore toe and upon further inspection discovered that a piece of my hair was tightly wound around my toe and had been cutting off my circulation all night.

Actually a similar thing happened to my ex-husband several years back except it happened to a more delicate piece of his anatomy. I’m not sure if that means that my hair has homicidal tendencies or whether it just proves that my hair is spethial.

In non-doom-related news, I’m thinking about trying the Dukan Diet, just for something different to do. I’m a bit fan of not-really-new-ideas-that-make-a-comeback-and-suddenly-everyone-buys-the-book-and-is-doing-them, so I’m thinking about jumping on the bandwagon too.

If you haven’t heard of it (where the fuck have you been?) think low-fat Atkins. If you don’t know what Atkins is, think high-protein, minimal carb where it’s okay to have full-fat cream whipped together with cocoa powder to make ‘chocolate mousse’….mmmmm….but you can’t eat a slice of bread.

Atkins was one of the ‘easiest’ diets that I followed I because I was never hungry. What was tricky was living without bread, rice & pasta for months. I very quickly lost a lot of weight doing it, but failed on the maintenance thing – which I always do.

I’m liking the structure of Dukan and the flexibility later on (it gives you ‘free meals’!!) Considering what has been happening with things the last few days, a new diet is probably doomed to fail at some stage, but it’s okay, I’m used to it…lol.


2 thoughts on “Indiana Jones & the many things of doom

Add yours

  1. I’m not familiar with the Dukan diet, but you should check out This is the new lifestyle that I’ve embarked on, (it’s not just a diet, it’s a lifestyle which I think is kind of cool) Others have had amazing results with it, and I’ve already started to, in just a month or so.

  2. many moons ago the guy i was living with got very drunk, as was his thing and *had* to sleep on the couch. my daughter had very long hair and was always brushing it on the lounge. i cracked up when he awoke screaming and holding his very purple balls in his hand and was jumping about in obvious pain, yes, he too was wound tight with her hair and i had to cut it off *the hair* because it would not unravel. i still laugh at that thought this very day because i didn’t know if he was horrified about the hair around his balls or the thought i was coming at him with a pair of scissors.

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