Am I really that bad?

I got up this morning at about 8am to go to the toilet. My mother peered around my bedroom door 5 minutes later, with a look of genuine concern on her face.

Mother: Are you OK?
Me: Yes.
Mother: Why are you up this early?

I'm starting to feel like the Prince Regent in Blackadder. My favourite quote ever (from Part III Episode 2: Ink and Incapability):

In Prince's House (in bedchamber)

Prince Regent: (wakes, shouts) "Oh, oh, oh, Blackadder! BLACKADDER!"
Blackadder: (enters) "Your Highness."
Prince Regent: "Wha--wha--what time is it?"
Blackadder: "Three o'clock in the afternoon, Your Highness."
Prince Regent: "Oh, thank God for that; I thought I'd overslept"

I've always empathised very heavily with that quote, which goes someway towards explaining why you could count the number of days I've been on time for work on the fingers of one hand.
There is also this equally mirthsome section (Part III Episode 6: Duel and Duality):

[While Blackadder is having a conversation in the palace kitchens with Baldrick, The Prince's bell rings.]

Blackadder: "Ah! The walrus awakes."

The Prince's Bedroom --------------------

Prince Regent: "Ah Blackadder. Notice anything unusual?"
Blackadder: "Yes sir, it's 11:30 in the morning and you're moving about. Is the bed on fire?"

You get the picture. I've never been a good riser. I'm fine (unlike some) once I get up, more cheerful than most, it's the getting up that's the problem. The snooze button on my Morphy Richards seems to have been designed just for me. It's not uncommon for me to languish in bed an hour after the alarm has first gone off, being rudely awoken every nine minutes only to turn over, crash my fist on said button, and then plunge back into the land of nod again. Every minute of sleep is precious, and as a result, I have alway tried to live as close to where I work as possible with a view to minimizing the commute so that I can stay in bed longer. I managed this admirably when I first came to Dublin and worked in my first testing job. Eight months into it, I moved into a house literally around the corner from the testing firm. Even after that, however, it was always pushing 10-15 minutes past the start time when I walked through the door. Flexitime, my best friend, did not exist at this company. My reputation was well established by then anyway. I'd already received a verbal warning only a couple of weeks before the move (at that point I was living 45 minutes from work by bus) from a team lead because I was always arriving in anytime upto 30 mins past the start time. I got that warning the morning after a company-sponsored party in honour of a guy who was leaving, though, which was a bit hard to take.

Incidentally, the guy who was leaving that night was my first lead ever, and was a big supporter of the policy of 'however late you are, work it up at the end of the day'. The other lead mentioned above was my second, and a vociferous opponent of flexitime because it didn't suit him. He was also a bit of a dimwit, and full of managerial hot air. You know the type. Anyway, this guy conducted my end of year performance review, and I got slated. He used my punctuality as the main talking point, but then argued that he had tried to press for flexitime himself, only to see it rejected. Yes, his pants was very much on fire. He also implied that I would have scored more highly for the whole year, but Team Lead One had given me a low score. Bollocks again.

Anyway, in my exit interview from this company - I had got a job somewhere else eight eternal months later - I let the HR person know exactly how incompetent he was and how inappropriate some of his comments were (he was constantly asking Joanne, who worked on the same team as me at that point, what the story was with herself and me) and soon after that, one of his clients complained about him and he got demoted.

Demoted Team Lead was always very personable though, which made it hard to dislike him. I still never really forgave him for that review but I'm beyond caring these days, and would actually be curious to see what he's upto now because he eventually got made redundant from that company.

Anyway, I have digressed substantially. My point: I love my lie-ins.

My trip to the doctor yesterday was OK, apart from the 45 minute wait (why do they make appointments, only to have you queue for ages along with everyone else?) and the horrible needles. I was in hospital before for a ruptured ulcer, and I was used as a human pin cushion by all the interns while I was in there. Since then, I've always had to avert my eyes when getting an injection. My GP is a pretty sound bloke though, and I hope I get someone half as decent over in Brighton.

I also verified my tax return and, no, it's not a mistake. I did owe the government 800 euro. Cobblers. It has been paid, and I now drown in bankruptcy. AIB must be contacted immediately. Grant application also gone off, the benefit of which I will be lucky to see before the end of the academic year, knowing me.

Later...