I feel worn-out from a day in which I have sought to achieve more than was ever going to be possible, but nonetheless have made progress. Much to the consternation of some. It was always going to be difficult, having to put my foot down to some meet-ees and actually say, "no, this is not how it's going to be anymore." I cannot afford to provide favours for all and sundry and keep my rates to an acceptably lowly 'female helping profession' kind of level any longer. The saying, "no" part has come easier in many ways, than I expected. Czechs prefer you to be clear, not wishy-washy so saying an outright, "I cannot continue with this" is preferable to, "I don't think I'm going to be able to continue" and is exactly what I needed to say. This has by and large been accepted without quibble. After all, a clear, "no" leaves no room for negotiation.
Asking for what I need from new, 'met-once but not established into the timetable' meet-ees has been a little bit harder. So has asking for what I need from friends who thought they could have endless favours and fashionable amounts of freedom to come and go as they please. But it is all necessary and worth it in the long run to actually clear my timetable of so many hours of dead time where I'm virtually drawing blood from a stone and barely getting paid enough to allow myself to eat and drink healthily that day.
So, enough is enough. I'm being 'reasonable but firm' about what I can and can't tolerate. And I'm trying to work around problems as they arise and see if I can knock down the most persistent and pervasive ones. The next hurdle is another visit to the bank. My favourite thing. Camping out in an over-the-top affluent-looking waiting area with a fountain no less, waiting for my number to come up on a screen, not only makes me think I must have ended up on a stopover in bankers' heaven but makes me spit with fury at what nonsense they're spending my banking fees on. If I spent my meet-ees fees on champagne and oysters, it would be close to the equivalent of this I suppose. (Mind you, champagne and oysters would actually be rather nice and a definite 'pick me up' for my otherwise lethargic and melancholic state, whereas an indoor fountain and wood panelled 'pods' to either sit and wait on or stand and write at, offer no such succour.)
And so it is that I find myself at the end of this long and busy day of once again trying to achieve the impossible, sipping hot chocolate with coconut liqueur and marvelling at the surprises that have befallen me today. Namely, a parcel I collected from the post office from the Russian Countess, containing a stash of chocolates, including a chocolate covered marzipan bar I had wanted to buy myself over Christmas but ran out of money for, some German champagne truffles, a lovely traveller's notebook and a card with sentiments expressing some unfounded belief in my achievements. I can only stare in amazement at such luck and cherish the thought that there is someone out there who thinks that the work I do, the stuff that so far seems to have no commercial value whatsoever, is somehow highly significant and is revered by another creative soul. That warms the cockles of my heart better than the hot chocolate. And that is truly saying something because I'm becoming something of a hot chocolate fanatic these days.
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