So I think I’ve reached the end of my list of people to inform I’ve changed name. IÂ need to make a trip to the bank, and one to the post office (to buy 17 million stamps); I’ve made an appointment with the doctor to go and discuss what to do now they’ve discontinued a medication I’m on, and why I’ve not heard from the allergy people, and could they please put my nose-spray that stops me spending each day sneezing on my repeat, please, please. Oh, and did they get my blood test results back?
I’ve sorted out getting the final handles done in the kitchen. I’ve filled in a form to reclaim tax because apparently nurses can get something towards the cost of laundering uniforms and buying inordinate numbers of socks, which I didn’t realise, and which is handy. I’ve washed down the bin and put it back in the kitchen. I’ve eaten lunch, made myself a very tasty cup of earl grey tea, transferred a chunk of debt from one credit card to another (with a much lower rate of interest).
I’ve ordered the form to change my driving licence (but not the one for my passport), I’ve requested prices on the DAFÂ parts needed to service the DAFÂ (which is now making a noise – to coin a phrase – “I don’t think it should make that noise”) – in fact, it’s making a worse noise than when we parked it a few days ago. I’ve e-mailed another person about a gearbox for the minor (the first person IÂ asked ‘d got rid of theirs ‘weeks ago’) – and am becoming increasingly convinced that it’s making more unpleasant noises than it was when it first started making unpleasant noises.
The shower, at the moment, looks more like it’s sealed than it has before. IÂ don’t wish to test my faith, but I’m a little hopeful.
I’ve popped an envelope around the corrected timesheet that got sent back to me for a night shift IÂ did a few months back, and all my cars/motorbikes will soon be registered to me in my shiny new name.
I’ve *even*Â washed the ‘working on the house and car’ clothes, so that IÂ can do some ‘working on the house’ and ‘working on the car’. This includes my very fetching boiler suit, which, well… fits attroicously. If anyone, anywhere, knows of a company that does boiler suits / jump suits for women, that’d be handy. Ideally cheap ones, because they get covered in oil and gick. (Shock:Â I’ve found one company that lists a women’s coverall / overall / boiler suit / jumpsuit:Â http://www.gbrworkwear.com/dickies-ladies-redhawk-front-coverall-wd4839w-p-822.html). The annoying thing is that going to a car show you can pick up loads of second hand and not too shabby overalls – for men – which is what I did last time.Â But having breasts meant that IÂ ended up with a huge size tent like coverall (although it does say something like Singapore Aviation on it, which is quite cool).
However, while it sounds like a roll call of accomplishment, and my list is slightly marred by the fact that IÂ *meant*Â to do theÂ DAFÂ service today, but excused myself from even looking at it (despite the fact it’s been more or less dry all day)Â because I didn’t have any workwear to wear under the car. Which is, to be fair, a not unreasonable reason for avoiding getting down-and-dirty-with-the-DAF; but at the same time, had I have thought about it, and been a little more prepared IÂ could have put the stuff in to wash before hand. I’d also feel less like IÂ wasted much of the day browsing the interwebs. Which IÂ did. But hey. Sometimes you need a rest.