On the danger of over-eating on a Saturday.

I ate LOTS on Saturday evening. I hadn’t had much lunch apart from the cake at the sale, and there was a galoptious potfull of leftovers to eat up. We didn’t quite achieve empty, even with 15 of us, but I did my best ;). Not sure to what extent my stomach would agree with me on that – on top of actually eating too much, lentils seem to expand once you’ve eaten them. I went home with the feeling I’d narrowly escaped exploding.

I tend to eat too much, then curl up to digest, a bit like a snake. This meant that I wasn’t really hungry on Sunday, in turn meaning I didn’t really eat (apart from yogurt, the most amazing chocolate muesli and the left over crisps from my ‘party’).

This morning, I woke up to the sound of my meanest alarm clock blaring in my ears. I have several and the mean one’s really only for emergencies – I usually wake up to one of the milder ones and turn the mean one off before it wakes the whole street up or someone calls the fire brigade. This morning I’d slept through the others and even this one had somehow managed to work its way into my dream and escape detection.

The reason for my ‘out-like-a-light’ sleep? Not sure, but it probably has to do with not going to bed early enough. I was trying to fill in a form. Or, more accurately, trying to write my CV so I can send it off with the already-filled-in-form to the nice lady who wants it. I probably haven’t done many more exciting/relevant things than the average person, but the manner in which we moved around while I was small, means I went to a LOT of schools. Then, despite changing schools again in order to do my selection of A-Levels, I ended up attending yet another school parallel to the first (eighth) because they cancelled the course after AS. But I digress.

Being a Brit living in Germany generally confuses things anyway, but in this case makes things especially complicated because I don’t have the same sort of report as they do. We have a final exam/coursework based grade and a certificate for each subject, they have a report with the result of every test they’ve ever taken on it. Someone works out the average overall grade, based on how many hours over how many years were spent learning which subject and [probably] what the headteacher eats for breakfast. At least I think that’s what they do. What sort of school you went to, and in which county, determines what people think of the number produced at the end of all the calculations. Whatever. I don’t have one. So I have to explain what my string of letters mean to the official people who are expecting a solitary number.

Oh yeah, and I spent a year ‘dossing’ between sixth form and starting my apprenticeship. At least on paper I dossed. In reality, chasing after small children didn’t feel much like dossing.

I haven’t figured out how to fit all that on one side of A4, so that it’s still readable, and fits the requirements of being in reverse chronological order. Yet.

I would be quite happy to spend the next few weeks working on it (like playing Tetris), but it should already be lying on the nice lady’s desk. And it’s worth something like 1500€. *sighs* With a price tag like that it ought to be at the top of my priority list. Which it was for about 3 minutes, and then life happened. Which is why I was still up at 12:30 last night. At one point it looked quite hopeful that I was going to have something to show for my lack of sleep, until my printer decided it was going to have a headache and print one stripy line a minute. ARGH.

I gave up, washed my hair and went to bed. I did admittedly sleep remarkably well, until the lorry reversed into my room anyway.

I left the house at least 6 minutes too late, realised it was raining, rushed back upstairs for my umbrella, rushed back down my stairs and then up the next flight of steps to the street (oh the joys of living on a hill ;)). I arrived, with wet feet and my jeans a couple of shades darker than usual, 1 (or 3) minutes late, depending on which clock you go by. This remarkably didn’t translate into decibels, but rather into a scowl which, while not being particularly upcheering, was at least gentler on the ears.


The connection to the title? Pff.. Isn’t that obvious? I didn’t eat much yesterday, and didn’t leave myself time for breakfast. Running while hungry is silly, and much harder than it ought to be. The rain didn’t help, but I can usually make the journey in about 9 minutes if I run compared to 17 if I walk, today I needed 14 despite attempting to run between alternate lampposts.

Okay, so maybe that’s a bit of an overkill, but I need something to blame 🙂

On the danger of helping at Jumble Sales

My new stool rocks! 🙂
Someone apparently thought I was responsible enough to sell lunch tickets..

I have just got back from the church bazaar. I set out to help sell lunch tokens (which I think I already mentioned ;)) and since I was offered a lift home and a meal as a reward, I stuck around to help out with tidying up.

As a result, I’ve ended up with 40 books, 4 boxes of “stuff”, 2 tubs of leftover “Linsen mit Spaetzle” and a new rocking stool  (fantastic things – apparently good for your back muscles too).

Once the official selling time ran out, everything was sorted into boxes to keep for next year or to throw away. Boxes of ceramics and pottery, boxes of glassware, boxes of wood, boxes of plastic, boxes of books. I’m not nearly as heartless as the professionals, so I wasn’t really a lot of help on the scrapping front. After half an hour of standing aimlessly in the way and asking busy people if things were to keep or throw, I decided it’d be more useful if I swept the floor and moved the boxes other people had filled. So I did that. Sweeping floors is brilliant. Not only do I quite like doing it anyway, cuz you can see it has an effect, but it also makes you look like you’re really helpful and efficient when all you’re really doing is wandering about.. *grins*

My fir cone men

I was given a jar of apple jelly, a couple of pieces of cake and 2 cups of tea. I bought some ueber cute fir cone men made by the kids at an outdoor Kindergarten.

In between wandering and sweeping, I ‘rescued’ quite a lot of things from certain ‘death’ or at least from the bin. This is where the boxes of ‘stuff’ appear on the scene.

Things like picture frames can be tarted up (I have LOTS of as yet unframed pictures), plant pots are almost always good, as are serving plates (the sort you put biscuits on when people come over for tea).

On the other hand, some of the stuff is quite obviously anything but Jessish. So why bring it back? Mostly because it would have been thrown away otherwise and I’m pretty sure I can sell it or give it to someone who’ll appreciate it. Hopefully. If I can’t, I can always throw it away myself. That’s the long-term plan anyway.

The short-term plan is to sort my kitchen out (which I still haven’t done), and find homes for all my new things, though probably not in that order…

YAY 🙂

P.S. I walked down to the church hall with this amazing sky:

I love sky 🙂