Not too much to say today but I promised myself I'd update this daily. Not entirely sure why. I think it was just to keep me writing, even if it's not of the creative variety.
...Blog-writing is better than no writing, no?
Of all the un-interesting things that happened today, the most annoying was spending an hour on hold with the benefits people so that I could ask them why they hadn't paid me this week. Turns out, that apparently they've had no medical certificates from me since December and therefore could only pay my back-dated benefits up 'til then. Now, not only have I been sending them like clockwork every month, I've been sending them seperately. I could understand them all getting lost in the post if I'd sent them in one big packet, but for every single one, sent in different envelopes at different times, to be lost? That's a bit ridiculous. I think it's a lot more likely they did receive them and they're just lost in the system somewhere. Goddamn bureaucracy. Speaking of goddamned ridiculous bureaucracy, why the hell do I need to keep getting medical certificates each month to say that I'm unfit for work when I have a lifelong, progressive condition. It's not like I'm magically going to get better one day, not tell them, and continue to scrounge off benefits. Jesus.
Oh, and apparently my dad was relying on my benefit money getting paid this week so he could afford to put a deposit on a car and buy drugs for Glastonbury in a couple weeks. Now, I know I owe him a lot of money, but he's my dad, dammit. It's not like I borrowed lots of money off him for frivolous things and never paid him back. I owe him money for a few months rent as I stayed at his house when I was homeless and had nowhere else to go. When I was seventeen, by the way. Again, I know I owe him money, I'm not debating that, but I did give him a quarter of it just last week when I got my first payment from benefits. I don't know what the hell he did with it and I don't know how the hell he was planning on getting to Glastonbury before I told him I was getting my benefits through finally. I'm willing to bet he spent it all on drugs. I've not actually told him that I'm not getting paid until I sort new copies of medical certificates out from my GP, but he's gonna get pretty upset with me. I don't think I approve of him getting upset with his daughter for not providing him with drug-money. Or of him charging me rent when I was seventeen and homeless.
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