Dot writes: I’m tired. I was searching for striking and memorable metaphors to express how tired I am, but I’m too tired to think of one. I’m also too tired to bother recording in detail all the ways Hugh and Frank found to stop us sleeping last night, which is probably fortunate (for you, that is, and possibly for them as I might mention it at their weddings). Ken had arranged to go walking with philosophers today and I had fixed up a trip to the zoo with some friends who live near it and have a pass; the said friends were treated to a rather unedifying spectacle of tantrums and crankiness from the boys and limp, ineffectual parenting from me, but they were very nice about it. We did get excellent views of tigers, giraffes, gorillas, and rhinos, and Hugh revived amazingly when fed summer pudding and (bizarrely) three bowls of cheerios.

I was going to post about how annoyed I was with Roisin Ingle’s column in the Irish Times magazine yesterday and how I’m going to throw a chair through the window of Brown Thomas next time someone comments on the economic crisis by saying “we lost the run of ourselves”. Ken and I lost the run of ourselves to the extent of building up our savings, paying off our student loans and not signing up to a thirty-five year mortgage, but we still get to pay all the tax hikes. I’m also contemplating a chair/plate-glass interface next time someone says that Irish consumers are to blame at the moment for saving too much. However, I am (you guessed it) too tired to do any of these things. This may well be a good thing too.

What a red-hot revolutionary I’d be if it weren’t for motherhood.


6 thoughts on “Tired

  1. God, I know, I went ballistic as well. We saved (my husband exactly 10 times as much as me but I saved too). When we went into the bank to get our mortgage, we said we would like a loan along the lines of central bank guidelines (we had no children, we went and checked out what they were). The bank said, “ah sure, if everyone stuck to the guidelines, no one would buy a house at all.” We politely but firmly insisted on this amount and bought our small but (crucially) affordable house. I sort of feel, maybe Roisin Ingle got something from the boom, but frankly, I didn’t (possibly because I was living in Belgium for most of it). And clearly, if everyone else had reacted as we did to the banks’ offers of endless limitless, ludicrous credit we wouldn’t be where we are today. Bitter, bitter, bitter.

    Have just read something mildly calming on the internet – refer it to you for same purpose: http://www.progressive-economy.ie/2010/10/time-to-grow-up-and-be-angry.html

    1. kenanddot

      Thanks for the link – this article puts it very well. The myth of “all in it together” really is a big get-out clause for people who acted irresponsibly and are now expecting other people to clean up for them.

      Good for you about the mortgage. If everyone had behaved that way prices wouldn’t have got so inflated, people like me might actually be able to afford houses (because it must be admitted even the 35-years-sell-your-organs deal would probably only have got us a small shed in County Meath), and the banks, and the economy, wouldn’t be in such deep do-do. Sigh.

  2. Helen Conrad-O'Briain

    First of all we need to think of a costume suitable for wearing in the process of saving the world. I think a master’s gown might be a good start – my Ph.D. robes at least are way too conspicuous. Comfortable shoes – but no trainers to be worn. Trainers and master’s gowns are SO maths and science. Now do we want light sabers or pattern welded swords with names? What names? (‘Pokey’ is probably not appropriate.) How about both – and the contents of a handbag (remember these can be kept down the sleeves of the gown) – including small Latin dictionary, sewing kit, and high quality band-aids…
    oh and a flashlight
    and knitting needles
    and an umbrella – what would be more useful – an umbrella or a light saber?
    Could someone come up with a light saber/umbrella?
    And maybe a bottle of bourbon (medicinal).
    What am I talking about – there is no maybe about the bourbon.

    1. kenanddot

      I don’t much like bourbon. Can I save the world with tea?

      I definitely vote for a pattern-welded named sword rather than a light-sabre. Will now spend my afternoon trying to think of a name for the sword rather than finishing my Piers Plowman lecture.

  3. Helen Conrad-O'Briain

    I suppose. You could probably save large swathes of the world with tea, but there are places where a tot of bourbon comes in handy.
    What is the high elvish for ‘hedgefund-hammerer’?

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