Gaviscon and Goth Nails

Stress gives me heartburn.  Gulp-Gaviscon-and-belch heartburn.  I have decided I shouldn’t eat crisps and dip for dinner or look for a job after 8.00pm.

I got another rejection yesterday.  I then asked my PA to polish my nails purple to cheer myself up.  It didn’t work.  Sarge came home for lunch and made me life-sucking -zombie coffee.  That worked.  I still cried, though.  And got unspeakably angry at grammatical errors on national websites.   I flapped around a bit saying, ‘People get PAID to make mistakes.  Who knew?’ Sarge went back to work, giving me a kiss and another coffee.

I also got a surprise but very welcome visit from a Glasgow friend.  We went for cake and milkshakes and gossip and the sun had set outside the window by the time we were done.  Before we went back to my flat we decided to buy the offending crisps and dip and call it dinner.  I may have had some wasabi beans for dessert.  Just maybe.

After snack-as-dinner time, my friend left and my boyfriend arrived home.  We are working on IMDb’s Top 250.  Sunday was Chinese food and City of God.  Sarge suggested we open some beers and watch Raging Bull.  I should have listened.  Instead of a nice relaxing evening of alcohol and film-violence (which I admit I needed), I went into the office and continued the hunt for the elusive job.

Several curses and one Gumtree ad later, I went into the kitchen and let out a Lucy Ricardo-sized wail.  ‘I want a job!’ And I actually asked this, ‘is that too much to ask?!’  I really did have my head in my hands on the kitchen table.  And Sarge was rubbing real tension out of my shoulders.

I lifted my head and looked at my nails.  What that morning looked half-heartedly cheerful looked plain garish in the light of evening.

‘I’m useless,’ I said.  ‘I can’t get a job, and I look like a tart.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he said.  ‘You look like a Goth.’

I laughed and went to bed with Paul Auster’s Invisible and our rather large bottle of Gaviscon.

I may take a break from the job-hunt today.  If only to keep the tears and heartburn away.   After all, I still have to watch Raging Bull.