swimming on reams of paper

My cup runneth over.

With admin. First question: do you think it's possible for a 27 year old to have a heart attack?

Second question: If you wear fuck off gorgeous winter boots with stockings and mini skirts as your new “Winter Look,” whilst attending to admin, does it make it easier?

My job, I've been sorting out all sorts of things obviously – paperwork central. Access cards, tax, medical aid, etc, the list goes on, it doesn't really stop either.
I'm moving. So in between this, it's leases, deposits, packing stuff into boxes, sending stuff to charity, dropping stuff off, throwing stuff out, and then moving the whole lot all before I head overseas.

Sort out new phone contracts. More tax. When to clean my old apartment? (Martha is emigrating to New Zealand the time I move out as well), banking. Sort out overseas banking and overseas admin and cards here.

Then tell no less than 14 companies my change of address. Swear to God. Not only cell phone and SARS, one forgets MultiChoice sends me a magazine every month, and I get Time magazine. Fuck.

Gad.

See that boring paragraph above? The stream of consciousness, trying to encapsulate when to sign, what to sign, when to move, how to squeeze it in, tell this person that? It's going through my brain every day, and it's exhausting. Luckily 3RM is going to help me move a lot of stuff, bless him and his Portuguese fraturas.

But am so super excited to move into my new crib. Gradually I'll be able to make it all nice and homely like frame my Andy Warhols, and invest in a new coffee table. Maybe some mugs. So, you know, when people come round I don't serve them a beverage in the Pussy: A Tasty Meal In A Little Box mug.

But for now, I'm swimming on reams of paperwork, and am feverishly stuffing shit into boxes. The problem with admin is that it never ends. Once done, there is always more admin to do. And at the bottom of the twenty-something to-do list, is menial stuff like getting a renewed driver's license and paying off traffic fines.

Not sleeping helluva well, brain not really turning the fuck off.

I think I'm going to get an office plant – an orchid – called Cody. For my desk.

One thing at a time, and there are always 25 hours in a day.

rugga stuff

Well I am interested and excited about rugby for perhaps the first time ever. Three days before the World Cup I started to get this very unfamiliar feeling.

Sport thoughts.
Dude.

Getting excited, learning the coach's name, what the H-posts are for, and stuff. Kidding, but you know what I mean. E2 had her birthday party on the day and turned it into a lavish rugga fest. I was most impressed, because like me, she's one of the least sport-interested friends I have. A rugby World Cup cake, two TVs in and outside her house...and not to mention an extravagant dress up opportunity.

I wore a green top and the gold lamé tablecloth that drapes over a table in the lounge. Gold lamé fabric has never been more versatile. It's been a gold toga, a tablecloth and like on Saturday, a pencil skirt, a mini skirt, an 80s meringue and a nappy.
And to win!

People were all...Bok jerseys and vuvuzelas. The nation just had the fever. I have lost my voice from screaming in jubilation.

Sunday though, there was a break in my happiness.
Martha Stewart and I chatted about the word 'admin' yesterday. We both agree that the word is derogatory.

I am admin. Or so I have been told before. And it's all very blasé, and “oh she's just one of those creative fly-off-the-handle- types.” Yeah, pure administration in other words. My friends laugh about it. I don't.

What I fail to understand is that I, prior to a week ago, had a different view. I thought of myself as an assertive, take-no-shit individual who doesn't have a problem standing up for herself. Perhaps a healthy, if not skewed, view of reality. But, silly old me, this apparently just comes down to one word: and it starts with an 'a.'

But what many people conveniently forget is that Admin, or high maintenance = high returns.

High maintenance people are honest and open, they know what they want and deserve; they put themselves out there. They're also compassionate; they get it that people can be emotional and demanding in return. Why is it when someone asks for something, it's considered "oh she's admin?"

Now that it's sunk in that I'm one of these people after our discussion yesterday, I feel low. Very low. Which is just more admin, isn't it? Well never fear, I'll just fucking disappear so that everyone around me can live happy lives without me and my fucking admin.

(I can't literally disappear, obviously. I mean, I'd need a special Invisible Man potion. Which I can't get even on the black market, or so I'm told.)

(Other admin people - please feel welcome to come forward and tell me how they deal with being 'admin.' That may help. And why is 'admin' so wrong anyhow?)

Funnily enough, admin attracts admin. Most of the people I associate myself with are admin openly-spoken, assertive, demanding individuals. Which is why I love them. Actually.

Usually I'd just say, “well fuck it, that's who I am.” I can't help it. Perhaps it's my genetic pool haunting me (my family can be...uphill), or “well, hopefully I have other endearing qualities that may counteract me being 'admin.'

But, today, I don' have the energy. I'll do what I usually do when I feel really shit about something I can't change. Slink into a hole for a few days. I don't even know when I am being unreasonably admin. I always thought I was reasonable. How shit is that?

PS: I was just 'admin' wasn't I?

PPS: Sorry, can I have a complex now?

PPPS: 'Admin' people always come last.