Curious Logic, and a Rant...
I live with a family of curious logic. Most of this comes from Rhys (more on that in a moment), but one jewel of it has come from mum. "I did say I bought the Wii for everyone, including you, just... don't use it when he's around, it irritates him..."
Now, on the one hand, I'm all for this, for reasons of domestic bliss. On the other, since I can never be sure when he is or isn't going to be around, I have no idea how much of my hour's workout I get to do on any given day, thanks, mostly, to the capriciousness of, effectively, Rhys.
Some examples:-
Firstly, when both our kitchens flooded, Rhys came in to see how things were, seemed not to notice that only the lowest point of the cottage (the kitchen) had flooded, and how it had, as I reported, come from below the ground (Thus leading to an obvious conclusion of rising water tables). No. It was because I hadn't dug a drainage ditch. A drainage ditch that has proved to not only be useless, but possibly detrimental. Great.
Then there's the Wii. Upon spotting me using it, he stated that I should instead, for fitness, run up and down the drive a few times (it was pissing down, as usual, when he said this)... The rebuttal to that argument I noted right at the beginning.
The wood cutting... ahhhh, the wood cutting? I cut his word for his house for him, but... BUT... if I'm doing it using one of his axes, I either get a speech or an immediate snatching of said axe.
And, of course, the reason for my erratic internet usage. I can't really afford my own intertubes, and so have to rely upon both public libraries (which won't let me get on here), or the charity of both mum and Rhys, so as to communicate with the outside world, search for jobs, and find information I need for my self training in digital art. Now, several times, on hearing him complain or direct sarky comments at me, I offered to pay a portion of the flat-rate internets fee he pays... no. He instead states I must repair the phone line twixt house and cottage (I, who am well known for my cackhandedness), pay for a phone line rental *and* internets.
I'm venting here, because the last time I brought up his lack of logic, and the last time I got so pissed off I vented, and swore he would get no tech support from me anymore because I am the least valued member of this extended household (despite my [until recent, for obvious reasons] willing desire to help), he stated that, as the landlord, I've got to, quote unquote, "keep [him] sweet".
I'm starting to get sick of this. I'm starting to think maybe voluntary homelessness is actually a better proposition... And I really wish I could actually *say* all of this, to his face, without fear of retribution...
...fuck me, it's only 4 days after my birthday, and already I feel crappy.
Later...
I don't know... maybe I'm being biased (after all, we're so damn alike it's terrifying sometimes), but I feel so damned cooped up, and those incidents happened as I report them... Dammit, I wish this jobsearch went well, and I hope my New Deal advisor (yes, ladies and gents, I've been put on the new deal... between jobs *that* long) will understand when I explain that the search databases are the same for the jobpoints and the jobcentre site (the only material difference being the jobpoints don't have that handy "all these types" buttons), and that Jobseekers Direct is a travesty, because, while they do indeed have a different database, and *claim* to do most of the dirty work (a claim I hold in deep distrust), they seem to me like an unnecessary layer of bureaucracy within the DWP. But all this is off the point. I've got cabin fever, I'm almost sure of it. I'm slowly going crazy because I'm so damn confined... not geographically (hell, geographically, I'm in the wild, free land!), but financially and socially (it may be a wild free land, but when you can't afford a pint half the time, and the nearest social centre is (shudder) fishguard, which is six and a half miles away, you don't get out much...
Now, on the one hand, I'm all for this, for reasons of domestic bliss. On the other, since I can never be sure when he is or isn't going to be around, I have no idea how much of my hour's workout I get to do on any given day, thanks, mostly, to the capriciousness of, effectively, Rhys.
Some examples:-
Firstly, when both our kitchens flooded, Rhys came in to see how things were, seemed not to notice that only the lowest point of the cottage (the kitchen) had flooded, and how it had, as I reported, come from below the ground (Thus leading to an obvious conclusion of rising water tables). No. It was because I hadn't dug a drainage ditch. A drainage ditch that has proved to not only be useless, but possibly detrimental. Great.
Then there's the Wii. Upon spotting me using it, he stated that I should instead, for fitness, run up and down the drive a few times (it was pissing down, as usual, when he said this)... The rebuttal to that argument I noted right at the beginning.
The wood cutting... ahhhh, the wood cutting? I cut his word for his house for him, but... BUT... if I'm doing it using one of his axes, I either get a speech or an immediate snatching of said axe.
And, of course, the reason for my erratic internet usage. I can't really afford my own intertubes, and so have to rely upon both public libraries (which won't let me get on here), or the charity of both mum and Rhys, so as to communicate with the outside world, search for jobs, and find information I need for my self training in digital art. Now, several times, on hearing him complain or direct sarky comments at me, I offered to pay a portion of the flat-rate internets fee he pays... no. He instead states I must repair the phone line twixt house and cottage (I, who am well known for my cackhandedness), pay for a phone line rental *and* internets.
I'm venting here, because the last time I brought up his lack of logic, and the last time I got so pissed off I vented, and swore he would get no tech support from me anymore because I am the least valued member of this extended household (despite my [until recent, for obvious reasons] willing desire to help), he stated that, as the landlord, I've got to, quote unquote, "keep [him] sweet".
I'm starting to get sick of this. I'm starting to think maybe voluntary homelessness is actually a better proposition... And I really wish I could actually *say* all of this, to his face, without fear of retribution...
...fuck me, it's only 4 days after my birthday, and already I feel crappy.
Later...
I don't know... maybe I'm being biased (after all, we're so damn alike it's terrifying sometimes), but I feel so damned cooped up, and those incidents happened as I report them... Dammit, I wish this jobsearch went well, and I hope my New Deal advisor (yes, ladies and gents, I've been put on the new deal... between jobs *that* long) will understand when I explain that the search databases are the same for the jobpoints and the jobcentre site (the only material difference being the jobpoints don't have that handy "all these types" buttons), and that Jobseekers Direct is a travesty, because, while they do indeed have a different database, and *claim* to do most of the dirty work (a claim I hold in deep distrust), they seem to me like an unnecessary layer of bureaucracy within the DWP. But all this is off the point. I've got cabin fever, I'm almost sure of it. I'm slowly going crazy because I'm so damn confined... not geographically (hell, geographically, I'm in the wild, free land!), but financially and socially (it may be a wild free land, but when you can't afford a pint half the time, and the nearest social centre is (shudder) fishguard, which is six and a half miles away, you don't get out much...