There comes a time in your life when you take a step back, have a look at it and, if you’re me, sigh and decide not to bother engaging in that exercise again because it’s just too distressing.  True to form though, as a person with too much time on their hands, I find myselt sitting back, having a look at my life and taking stock of the good things about it as well as those areas that require improvement.  I tend to ignore the “Requires Improvement” area altogether these days, even though I know I shouldn’t.

The following areas  listed under “Satisfactory”:

• Accommodation
• Friends
• Family
• Dog (although he could quite easily come under “requires improvement”)

Requires Improvement:

• FinancesI’m very good at knowing how much money I haven’t got.  It’s always a bit of a struggle, and past periods of profligacy haven’t helped my cause, but I keep my head above water and the wolf from the door.  It’s just disappointing that I’m never in the position to save money.

• CareerGiven my natural brilliance, sparkling personality, intelligence and many other attributes that I’m too modest to mention, I should really have a career and I don’t. I have a job that’s ok that I generally enjoy, but I can see me being stuck there until I retire because, although  I know I’m capabale of much more, I don’t want the hassle of job applications and interviews and the rest of it.

• HouseworkThis is something that I avoid until I absolutely have to do it, which is wrong, I know.  The thing is, I love having a tidy, dust-free house, but the housework always starts with the vacuum and the vacuum always initiates a fight with the dog and I don’t think he can afford to lose yet another tooth from biting the GTech.  I’m making excuses when I have no justification for not doing my housework other than the fact I can’t be fucking arsed.

• RelationshipsDon’t, just don’t. It’s not going to happen. I am not, ever, going to get involved in another relationship for as long as I live.  My poor old heart is still torn from what happened six years ago and I can’t even think about putting myself through that again.  The thing with women is that all the nice ones are straight and the gay ones are a strange variety of mental illness in human form.  So no, I shall be avoiding all that nonsense at all costs.

• HealthSomething very strange happened to me in the new year: I got poorly over Christmas with a terrible virus that gave me the most horrendous cough and rendered me unable to breathe.  Try as I might, I couldn’t smoke, so I just stopped.  I also hardly drink booze these days other than at weekends when I see how many drinks I can have before falling asleep or developing a migraine.  Despite my straight edge lifestyle, my health never seems to improve; it’s just a downwards spiral of fatigue and pain.  My right hip keeps me awake at night while a seering pain runs through my left hip whenever I stand from my office chair at work.  I’m in agony with my ankle when I walk and I have a grumbling ovary that leave me feeling like I’m being constantly poked.  If anybody is a limping lesson in looking after yourself in youth, it’s me.

My shortcomings have made me come to the conclusion that I need a carer.  I’d never heard of such a thing until morbidly obese people who are too stupid or lazy to work started going on TV and shouting at politicians, claiming that their benefits had been cut and they no longer had a carer to cook for them or to get them dressed.  Another word for carer is “partner” and people who have partners are generally not the sorts of people who go on telly to shout at politicians about having their benefits cut because they’re not fat, lazy slobs and they manage to get off their arses and go to work while still having time to have a bath, wash their hair, eat a balanced diet and get some exercise.  While being a fat, lazy slob, I do go to work, have a daily appointment with my shower and my diet is very well balanced between stuff that’s really good for me and absolute shit.  I don’t have a partner or a carer, but I don’t think I want to go on the telly to shout at politicians about this because, quite frankly, it’s a ridiculous thing for anybody to do.

I don’t want a partner or a carer though, the former because my fragile emotional state simply can’t handle it and the latter because I can’t stand the idea of somebody not loading the dishwasher correctly (this applies to the former too).

In the absence of a partner or a carer, most of my “Requires Improvements” could be brought up to a more optimum state by me having more money.  So essentially, having the income of a partner without having to have that romantic involvement and all the constant suspicions that they’re cheating on me because that’s what they always do.  Having more money will allow me to get a housekeeper, a personal trainer and a hip replacement. To facilitate this, I’m going to set up a GoFundMe page where people can donate to a wonderful cause: me.  Because I’m worth it.