Friday, January 6, 2012

Nollaig na mBan Shona Dhuit (Happy Womens Christmas to you)

Today is Nollaig na mBan in Ireland. Also known as Little Christmas. I learned today that this day is the day when the women of Ireland hang up their aprons, down their cooking utensils, cleaning utensils and get together for a chin wag and a laugh and leave the chores to the men folk in their lives. It's an old tradition, apparently, and one that is dying out. Not in my house, I can tell you. No sir-ee! I shall be heading home and telling himself, 'Oi, cook for yourself, it's my Christmas!' and I will also say, You can do the cleaning, the washing and ironing, I'm not doing... oh wait. Hang on a sec. Now that I think of it, the only thing I actually do in the house is the cooking and maybe a little bit of washing up after the dinner. So, eh, perhaps I'll keep me gob shut and say nothing.

It has been quite a distressing Nollaig na mBan and I am rather looking forward to it being over! Apart from having a stressful day in work with a lot of demands being placed upon my weary shoulders. The day started off dreadfully. It was quite vexing if I am to be honest. .

My car wouldn't start.

Now I'm not sure if you are aware, but the morning time wouldn't be my favorite time of the day and lets just say I am less than approachable. I have my routine down to a T. Don't speak to me. Acknowledge me with only a nod if you must. Leave me be until I've had some breakfast, some tea and a chance to come into the morning. So needless to say, discovering that my car is banjaxed didn't endear me to this first Friday of the year.

Then, to make things worse, I took out my phone and went to dial the first number I always dial when something of this nature goes wrong (or actually when anything goes wrong really). I went to dial my Dad's number. Just as I was about to press dial, I remembered there was little point in calling that number. My Dad no longer lives 20 minutes away from me. He now lives a good 3 and half to 4 hours away in Donegal. His particular living arrangement was less than helpful to my situation. So I got annoyed with him. I decided to ring the house to give out to him for up-ing and leaving me four years ago to live in the back of beyond. I was going to ask him 'who do you think you are abandoning your first born and leaving her to fend for herself'? (In the more rational afternoon light I realise that it is quite difficult for a parent to abandon a 29 year old, them being an adult and all). Thankfully, he didn't answer and my text appeared somewhat humorous to him.

I shall ring to apologise later this evening.

Once I got over my anger, I got upset. It was only 815 and I was on an emotional rollarcoaster to rival that of any Disney Land attraction. I wanted to cry because who else could I phone? My dad was the one that would have come over and picked me up, dropped me to work, fixed the car and picked me up from work (realising, again, in the cold light of the afternoon that this is rather spoiled!). So eventually I realised that I have got Himself in my life and he is now solely responsible for emergencies such as these (providing of course my Dad isn't in the vicinity), so I rang him instead. And he gave me instruction on what to do.

Call Himself's Uncle who is a mechanic and who, much to my eternal appreciation, came up to the house right away and sorted it all out for me.

Himself also organised for me to have a lift into work so that I wouldn't need to deal with public transport and the weirdos that seek me out on it first thing in the morning.

Essentially, I was saved and Himself and his uncle are my hero's (when my dad is not around, when my dad is around no one can be a hero but him).

So, what has this got to do with weight loss? i hear you ask. Well my little friends. This is the type of debacle that, I am ashamed to say, would normally set me over the edge into a pity party and eating frenzy (I swear, that's how important my morning routine is to me!). But today! Well today it didn't have that effect.

I had planned to sit waiting for my lift to work while polishing off the remainder of the Roses (even the orange and pink ones that no one likes). I nearly had the tin out. But i stopped. I thought about how I'd feel when i scoffed the lot. I asked would it change the shite start to the morning? The answer was NO! It wouldn't change a thing except that I'd feel even more shite for blowing my points!

That to me is progress... Remember the epic fall from the wagon I had two weeks before Christmas?!!!

Nollaig na mBan Shona Dhuit agus Athbhliain faoi Mhaise Duit

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