The usual, except this time I’m being a bit gushy.

 Sometimes I feel lucky. I know I moan about the bookshop, or rather, the customers, but really, it’s pretty cool bananas.

I work one day a week at the moment, in the coolest bookshop I know. Not only that, but I work in my favourite section; fiction. I work with some very funny, intelligent and lovely people. I honestly really like my managers! I wanted a short story section and they said sure, go ahead, order in what you like. Seriously. It’s fun. I also get proof copies to read, and discount on books I buy. 
So, a little ‘yay’, today.
The usual customer arse though.
A  well dressed older man and his wife bought 2 hard back books priced £16.99 each, but with orange stickers on the front that said there was £4 off, plus a book at £6.99. He watched me put it through the till, and the way it works is that the discounts come off automatically at the end. So he saw £16.99, £16.99, £6.99 go in, and queried the total. I am used to that, I understand it, do it myself in other stores, “Did it take the discount off?”
So, I smiled, I said yes, the total was  £32.97, and would have been £40.97 without discount. I tried to make it clear. He paid, I packed his bag, asked if he wanted the receipt in the bag or not. He took it, and scanned it. I waited.
Now, if he had said something along the lines of ‘Oh, sorry, I don’t see the discount’ or whatever I would have carried on not minding. But of course he didn’t. He triumphantly shouted “Hold on! You haven’t taken the discount off. I told you you hadn’t. Look here.” And he showed me the receipt, and I pointed out the places where it showed the discount, and he blushed, but didn’t apologise, and moved slightly away from the counter.
Unfortunately for him his wife hadn’t heard any of this, she’d wandered off for a while, but she returned, and wanted to browse the books at the counter, and smile at me, and make little friendly comments. So he was stuck, awkwardly ignoring me, feeling daft I hope.
And that’s what I don’t understand. Mistakes happen, we’re all human, why do people ever feel the need to be shitty about the tiny things in life. There are so many big, crappy things that can happen, how on earth do these people cope with real problems?

Things to do vs things I want to do vs life.

In my brief “About me” bit on this blog I have a list; mum, wife, writer, friend, woman, sister, daughter, bookseller, bitch. They are the describing words I came up with to sum me up. They tell a tiny bit about me, but not much beyond the roles which I have at the moment in this world. This is a writing/reading/bookish blog of sorts, and I did once have a Live Journal as well, in which I dumped the daily stuff. I have ditched the LJ, and carried on with this. I like the fact that the day to day of my life has no place here. Only sometimes there is nothing but the day to day in my week, and so there’s nothing to say. It seems futile to mention that this week I have read nothing, written nothing, achieved nothing. But that’s a version of the truth.

The other version is this; illness, pain, sadness, behavioural difficulties, need, cleaning, washing, emailing, phoning, attempting to soothe and ease and assist and nurture and help, eating, drinking, sleeping, wiping, hoping, loving, talking, hugging, kissing, holding, nurturing, crying.

I am exhausted, and I have a headache and I really must clean the bathroom and Dyson because I’ve got work tomorrow, and I’ve got forms to fill out and paperwork to do, and all the niggly stuff that crowds my mind. But whilst I do those things, in my head I shall be working on a story idea I have, about a woman who is not me, a woman who is nowhere near as lucky as me. And next week I may just get the space to write it.

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