Oh dear, gentle reader - I have been neglecting you again. I've just been rather busy recently, completing year-end accounts for two of the companies for which I am financially responsible. So, I've been knee-deep in paperwork, invoices and receipt, and wishing that I could afford a PA or similar - someone who would perform all these tedious tasks for me. I seem to spend most of my time on administrative matters, and there's hardly any time for being creative. There was a time when I would write something every day (I'm not talking about this blog here) because it was almost a need in me to do so - now I meet up with writer friends and they ask me if I'm writing anything at the moment, and I have to answer "No, nothing".This simply won't do at all. I still have that need to write, and so to frustrate that need by continually becoming submerged in the burden of administrative matters (and other work), is inflicting an unhealthy amount of stress on any sense of well-being that I might otherwise achieve. It's simply not fair - and if I had a dummy in my mouth right now, I would spit it right out. The trouble is, in today's accusatory society where we are always trying to seek redress from some authority or other when things go wrong, in this situation there is nobody to blame but myself. I take on far too much responsibility - I always have - and the result from this is that I am constantly chasing my tail trying to satisfy all the various people and organisations to whom/which I have made some previous commitment.
It's not as if I receive any recognition or thanks for most of what I do. On the contrary. Usually, I can be minding my own business and just trying to get on with things, when all of a sudden I find myself caught up in accusations and recriminations about all manner of things, most of which I was previously not even aware. It's almost as if other people instinctively know that when something goes wrong for them, and they need to cast around for someone else at whom to throw the culpability, they see me as an easy touch. Everything - whether I am responsible for it or not - seems to stick to me.
Take this morning, for example. My landlord had arranged for some of the wooden flooring in my hallway to be replaced. There was a leak from next door's bathroom which had caused some of the flooring in my apartment to become warped. This sounds quite a simple exercise, I'm sure, and nothing (you would think) for me to worry my little head about. Until, that is, the builder had finished his job. The section of flooring that he had ripped up with such hunky, masculine energy was subsequently replaced by wood which clearly doesn't match the original. The result is a complete mess. Well, it's a neat enough job (the builder was very conscientious and very thorough), but the visual outcome is a stylistic disaster. My landlord, of course, blames me for this. He thinks I should have barred entry to the builder chappy, or at least prevented him from despoiling the former clean lines of the hall. The problem was that I had to leave the apartment while he was doing it - I had a committee meeting to attend (another of my many commitments that yesterday, I could have done without) - and by the time I had returned, the evil deed was complete. I could hardly ask him to rip it all up and start again; the poor lad was exhausted, and it wasn't his fault either - he was only working with the equipment with which he had been supplied.
No, this is clearly my fault again. Everything always is. As I write this, I can see from my window that it is snowing heavily outside. Hmm, this will no doubt cause all sorts of problems for the transport and communication infrastructure of this city, and everyone will start complaining and looking around for someone to blame. I wonder who's sorry head their beady eyes will settle upon this time? Yes, you've guessed it - little old me!
It's not fair!
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