On [self-inflicted] frustration

(Another one from the drafts folder)

“I hate satnags

And traffic

And running out of fuel

And hotel receptionists who have to show you how the lights work in your room

And not finding anywhere to park

And people who don’t put signs up to let you know where you’re going

And the lack of house numbers

And people who hold fish meetings in poodle club houses”

***

That’s what I wrote to my brother the other evening. Can you tell that I was stressed?

If I unravel the strings a bit, it’s obvious that I can’t honestly even blame any of the things on the list for my stress either. I am just really really bad at planning things. Or possibly passable at making plans and rubbish at carrying them out.

***

I wanted to listen to a talk about catfish.

It was being given by an expert/fanatic in Hamburg, at least 3 hours away from where I work. It was on a Thursday evening and I try not to drive when tired, meaning I needed to take holiday for the Friday, and pay for accommodation for Thursday night. I don’t have holiday or money to spare, and I should probably have stayed at home because my brother was coming to visit and I wanted/needed to prepare for him.

I decided to go anyway.

It was a spontaneous decision, one I didn’t really have time for, but one I made and stuck to regardless. My pre-birthday present to myself. There’s time to be vernünftig when I’m old, and luckily my brother isn’t fussy about things like unwashed floors or unmade beds.

***

On the evening before the day of the talk I came home late from work (still catching up with my hours of school-induced undertime) and tried to sort my house out. I could have started that earlier in the week but I didn’t, I made a mess in my kitchen and on the balcony instead. I could have ignored the hours I need to catch up with and gone home earlier but I didn’t. I could have tidied more quickly and distracted myself with the shrimp babies less often. But I didn’t and did, respectively.

By the time the place was starting to look presentable it was midnight and I was tired. I went directly to bed instead of going via the shower.

I didn’t shower the next morning either, because it was almost freezing outside and I’d had to park million miles away so the workmen could build a new road outside my house, and also because I’d woken up later than I’d planned.

I didn’t fill my water bottles for work because I hadn’t left time for the filter to do its thing and my tap water tastes horrible. I didn’t stop to buy anything to drink on the way because I was already late. Despite not showering and not filling my bottles.

Once at work, nothing I tried making turned out the way I wanted it to**. My hand cramped which only made things worse. The kind of cramp which makes you cry. I was aiming to set off at 2pm, but I didn’t want to leave before I’d had some kind of success, even if only minimal, so I didn’t get on the road until nearly 3. Google had said it would take 3 hours so I was still within my time budget. (Or so I thought.)

It took me over an hour to get across Berlin in nose-to-tail traffic. If I’d known, I could have taken a different route, but I didn’t know. I checked Google for distance and driving time a couple of days in advance, but I didn’t check for congestion before setting out and my satnav doesn’t communicate with traffic information.

The rest of the journey was long but uninteresting, except for having to stop for fuel on the way. The bloke at the petrol station laughed at me because I forgot to look at the number of my pump before I went in to pay… ?

***

When I reached the last junction I had to choose where to go first – hall or hotel.

I’d chosen a hotel approximately 10-15 minutes drive away from the hall the talk was going to be held in. It was already gone half past 6 and the talk was due to start at 7pm, with an open-ended question and answer session afterwards. I figured I was unlikely to make it to the talk on time if I checked into the hotel first, but just as unlikely to make it back to the hotel before the reception closed at 10pm. Sleeping in my car sounded like a bad idea in November. I looked at the clock, sighed and headed towards the hotel instead of straight to the hall.

***

I almost drove straight past the hotel but saw the sign at the last moment and parked on the pavement a couple of hundred metres away. It took me a while to find the front door (curiously situated at the  back of the house) and even longer to check in.

The receptionist was in the middle of printing and folding a million pages of menus. She couldn’t check me in until she could print my paperwork, and she couldn’t do that until the printer had finished printing the menus….

At some point I was shown the key. I couldn’t have it, though, until I’d been shown the box to put it in upon departure, as well as the carpark, the rest of the grounds, the breakfast hall, the toilets and my room, including a demonstration of each light and every cupboard.

Since when is that normal?!

To give the receptionist her due, she was very lovely (and possibly very bored), and on any other day, I would have probably been more grateful for the tour. In this case I could only just about remember to say thank you when she was finished.

***

I should probably have left as soon as she finished telling me about how to close the bedroom door properly, but someone had unfortunately put a mirror up in my room and I hadn’t managed to avoid it.

I looked a complete mess. It appeared that a shower was more a necessity than a luxury… (Especially the part where I had to be content with using the hotel’s shower gel instead of shampoo because I’d left my washkit in my car).

***

I was tired and I hadn’t eaten and I’d already missed the beginning of the talk when I finally set off towards the hall, but I had at least found a stray bottle of water in the boot of my car (from a previous shopping trip) so I was less at risk of dehydration thirsty than when I’d set off.

***

The 10 minute trip from the hotel to the hall took me over half an hour and involved swearing in multiple languages. My satnag and I rarely agree on timing and only very occasionally on directions. After driving backwards and forwards and round in circles I parked at random and got out of the car. My phone would have to take over.

It was dark and raining as I walked back the way I’d come. I was already nearly ¾ of an hour late for a talk I’d driven 300km to hear. I was not a particularly happy bunny and the weather wasn’t helping to cheer me up.

A few minutes later I was amazed to find a miniature carpark, accessible only via an unmarked turning, hidden from the road by a thick hedge. Opposite the carpark was a narrow wooden gate, mostly hidden behind some trees.

Further inspection revealed a small sign which informed me that the field behind the gate belonged to the poodle taming club. At the far end of the field was a low hut with row of yellow window-shaped lights.

The poodle tamers’ clubhouse address at the bottom of the sign was the same as the address of the fishlovers association I was looking for. I was expecting lots of catfish enthusiasts but no one had told me about the poodle tamers.

I opened the gate and made my way across the wet field in the half-dark, typing that message to my brother and hoping there weren’t any wild poodles waiting for intruders.

***

The talk was fantastic (at least the parts I was there for), the speaker unexpectedly laid back. The talk and Q&A session were followed by a book signing. He had brought a box of back issues of his magazines*** to hand out and a box of his books for sale. I, obviously (is it obvious to everyone else?), hadn’t got enough money with me to buy a book, but I did pick up a magazine as they came round.

I knew nobody and would have usually slunk away at this point, but I was accosted as soon as the projector was turned off and the lights came on. Who are you, where do you come from, why are you here, how did you hear about it, where do you come from, did you really drive all the way here from Berlin?! what kind of fish do you have..? Do you know the speaker, do you want to get his signature…etcetcetc… Some of the usuals in the aquarium club knew him already, presumably from previous speeches, and insisted on introducing us.

I still, despite working with famous artists and professors, expect experts to be serious, too aloof to talk to normal mortals, but the speaker, like the artists and professors, was just as human as the rest of us as he sat and chatted about fish and travelling and struggling to find time to write books between all his other commitments.

He pushed the pile of magazines in my direction and gave me the names of other people to get in touch with, people who know about the same sort of fish, people who are part of a small group of experts, people with many years of fish-breeding experience, people who would be interested in passing on their knowledge if I wanted to hear it.

***

I left the poodle club starving but in a much better mood than before…

…until I found out that none of the restaurants in a 10km radius were willing to serve me food after 10pm.

Ho-hum.

Good thing garages sell breadbuns late at night.

***

All things considered, it was a very good evening.

Can’t shake the feeling that I probably need to work on my organisation skills tho.

* Wet hair in cold weather is probably ok if you’re healthy. I used to not care what the weather was doing. Thing is, I’ve been running on empty for a long time and my immune system is more or less screwed.. I’ve been fighting a cold since early September and had far more eczema than usual.

** Not a new phenomenon…

*** He’s not only a discoverer and breeder of various fish, he also writes books and catalogues and is the editor of a well-read magazine.

On catfish and other sites

DB says we can’t have a cat.

He didn’t say anything about catfish.

I now have 18 – and counting 🙂

***

On the grounds that I am liable to become boring for most readers who don’t like fish, I’m going to put future posts about fish onto their own site.

Here are some pictures so you can see whether you want to follow me there..

My newly planted little 250L aquarium:

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Did you see the pandas?

 

***

Edit 31.3.16:

There are 10 Corydoras Pandas in this Tank

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in DB’s tank there are 5 Corydoras Arcuatus (“Skunk”)

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as well as 3 I-have-no-idea-what’s

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I hope it’s obvious that I don’t keep them in plastic bags. It’s just difficult to take photos when they’re hidden in the undergrowth….

On bathing twice in one day

I am most definitely not a morning person.

DB most definitely is.

During the week I have to be dressed, breakfasted and out of the house by 7am (7:10 at the very latest), and DB demands that I eat breakfast with him at least once per weekend which involves being up by just gone 8. Over the last couple of years I have managed to gradually move breakfast time from 7:30 to almost 8:45, but that is still too early for my idea of a leisurely weekend breakfast… (Remember how I said DB is a morning person? 8:45 is practically lunchtime in his mind ;))

That leaves me ONE day per week when I can sleep until I wake up, instead of when I’m woken up. I look forward to those days*.

***

Yesterday was our ‘common breakfast day’ (with fresh breadrolls from the bakery down the road, courtesy of DB who is glad to be up and doing something, anything, even queuing for breadrolls at early o’clock in the morning, as soon as he wakes up. Plus, it gives me 15 extra minutes to humanise enough to be able to make breakfast table conversation, so we all win ;)).

Today should have been my sleep in day. Instead, I was out of bed and in the bathroom before 8:30. Voluntarily. On a Sunday. I must be mad.

***

We got new fish and a couple of new aquatic plants last weekend. We still need some (=lots) more plants, and maybe some more fish. That’s quite an expensive game in ‘normal’ shops, so when we found out that the local fish club has a sale on the first Sunday of the month we decided to try our luck there. Being a very morning-orientated country, the sale opened at 10am. Being a very morning-orientated person, DB said we should be there when they open the doors. We were taking DB’s dad with us, so we needed to plan in another few minutes to pick him up. ETD 9:40.

***

Being busy in the evening has disadvantages. I’d fallen into bed, passing neither ‘Go’ nor the bath, despite knowing that we had a very important fish sale to get to relatively early and that I had to wash my hair before going anywhere near other people. Not sensible.

Plus, I wanted to cut another few centimetres off while it was still wet.

Hey ho. There went my lie in.. The things you do for love (and fish) and all that.

***

The fish sale was held in a cellar. Close to 40 mini-aquariums were lined up In the middle of the room; the current owners on one side, the prospective owners on the other. There were more people than I’d expected, and most of them had sharpened their elbows specially. There were obviously no ‘reserve fish’ so once they’d been sold they were gone.

We were approximately 10 minutes ‘late’ (if you can even be late to a sale), courtesy of my breakfast** and already there were seriously depleted aquariums.

DB looked for plants while I fell in love with some white catfish. I asked for two, so they could keep each other company. The first was out of the water and into the bag before I’d finished asking. The second got a fin caught up in the net so he gave me a different one and hung the net in the water so the fish could “free itself”. I paid and went to find DB. After looking round the rest of the sale room with a bad feeling, I went back and said I wanted the one in the net too. It was still hanging and didn’t look like it was capable of anything more than struggling. It took a while, and a lot of under-breath-cursing, but eventually my baby catfish was free to join the other 2 in the bag. In retrospect, I should have demanded it be freed immediately, but anyway. I think 3 is better for them anyway. Probably 6 would have been even better than that, but I don’t know enough about them yet.

In other news, DB’s dad bought 20 assorted small fish and I won a bottle of aquarium-plant-food in the raffle.

***

Once home, it was time to get the fish and plants into the aquarium. I let the bag float on the surface and concentrated on the plants, since the fish have to acclimatise to the temperature and new water before you can let them out.

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Excuse the awful photo – it’s what’s to be expected when I use my phone to take pictures through 8mm glass, water and a not-quite-clear bag… 😉

Our biggest aquarium is 2m long and about 65cm deep. To plant anything in the 2inch gravel layer, you have to remove the outer lid, climb up a stepladder, slide the glass lid to one side, and lean over – one hand in the water, one on the edge for balance. Usually DB does Aquarium-related things, this time I wanted to be involved, especially since I had my first very own fish.

What I didn’t realise was just how short my arms are, and just how sensible it would have been to get undressed first!

There were something like 20 plants to go in. The first went in ok, the second was just far enough away to get the edge of my [short] sleeve wet.

The third was enough to submerge the rest of my sleeve.

By the time I got to the last one, I might as well have got into the tank.

***

The fish were happy to be released, and darted round the tank like mad things until they realised they had so many hiding places to try out, whereupon they vanished, seldom to be seen again.

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***

I left them to it and went off to have my second (/third) bath of the day 🙂

 

 

* I realise that there will most likely come a time when I can’t sleep as long as I want on any day, but in the meantime I intend to treasure all the chances I can get 🙂

** I would’ve been happy to eat in the car, but DB isn’t a fan of crumbs….