deathpixie | Things that make you go... "Fuck it."

Ever been so tired you've actually felt physically ill? That's how I feel after another hellish day at work - the lists are just getting longer and longer, and every nutcase and troublemaker in the region seems to be converging on us. I rode home with a headache so bad it made me feel nauseous, after doing forty minutes unpaid overtime. Not much, in the scheme of things, but I had been sitting in an enclosed courtroom since 9.45 that morning until 4.30pm, with barely enough lunch break to go and get a packet soup and some rice crackers. I had a hot bath and a Neurofen when I got home, so the headache is gone, but I still feel nauseous: I didn't want to eat, but I did. I've lost another couple of kilos over the past couple of weeks, and while I'm still in the healthy range, it's getting borderline.

Our Nutcase Special of the Day was the man applying through the protective jurisdiction of the Children Court for access visits to his fifteen year old daughter. This is the man who, after being banned from access after allegations of sexual abuse against his then three year old daughter, has made such a nuisance of himself in the Family Court that he's been made a vaxatious litigant - he has to apply for court permission before he is allowed to file any new application in that court. He's using the Children's Court as a back door, and he is, I'm firmly convinced, insane. One of those scary religious nuts, complete with Bible quotes and overblown sense of righteousness. Never mind that his daughter - who has self-mutilating behaviours, suicidal tendancies and a history of drug abuse and prostitution since she was thriteen - has refused outright to see him, who is so scared of him she didn't want to be in the court room with him today. He's convinced that her behavioural problems are caused by the Department of Human Services and her mother, and that he should have access to all details of her case, including the confidential reports. The case has been adjourned off to the 21st of November - wonder if I can arrange to pull a sickie that day without Paula killing me?

More nutters tomorrow - intervention order day. I didn't even look at the lists for tomorrow after I got out of court - all I could think of doing was finishing the can of Coke left over from lunch (I didn't get time to drink it!) and getting changed and on my bike. Thing was, home wasn't exactly a welcoming prospect either, with BRM accusing me this morning of... something, I have no idea what. But he wasn't home - some small good for the day.

I don't care any more - if he wants to hate me, fine. I just don't give a fuck about any of it any more.