Hermia has grown up.
Keep your eyes open…
Hermia has grown up.
To my wonderful readers,
I started A Chick Named Hermia about two and half years ago, simply wanting something that would encourage me to write regularly.
I had NO idea what I was getting myself in to.
I have met wonderful people, read posts by so many amazing writers, made ‘real world’ friends and discovered my ‘style’.
I also became part of a community that I could always turn to in times of trouble.
A Chick Named Hermia has become more than I ever dreamed it would be.
It also became a blog that was a million miles from the first draft.
At first, it was simply a place I could post random bits and bobs I came across, but gradually it became a part of me and all of you ended up submerged in my life.
I love sharing my stories with you and your feedback has been invaluable, but not everyone can be as lovely as you lot.
There are some trolls out there and they’ve made writing here very difficult.
I’ve put so much work into ACNH that ending it seemed unimaginable, but those people have stopped this blog from being what it was, which means they are winning.
And bullies should never EVER win.
I could never give up blogging completely, so while this spells the end for A Chick Named Hermia, I am in the process of setting up a new blog where I’m back in control and free to write what I want.
For obvious reasons, I can’t exactly broadcast the new URL here, but I do want to take all you lovely people who have supported me and gotten to know me over the last couple of years to the other side with me.
If you’re interested in following my adventures at their new location, enter your contact info below and I’ll send you the URL as soon as the new blog is up and running (next couple of days).
Those of you who don’t wish to follow, thank you so much for the support you’ve given me up to now, and to those who decide to continue following me, it’s you lot who make starting over worthwhile.
Til we meet again,
It’s been tough getting through the last few weeks without your support and encouragement.
Thankfully some of you offer it up to snappy moans on Facebook and Twitter, and even better, some of you have become parts of ‘real’ life and offer it in person.
But I still miss the interaction here.
Unfortunately I still don’t have internet at home, so I’m not actually back.
Instead, I’m sitting at a computer in the office an hour after I finished trying to get my fix.
My internet provider – UPC – are…well I can’t say, because I’m trying to be dignified and ladylike, a la Audrey or Grace.
When really I feel like pulling a Bette and going postal.
They’re screwing me over basically.
Charging me for a service they ARE NOT PROVIDING and then charging me a colossal fee for cancelling my contract with them BECAUSE they are not providing me with the service I’m paying for.
If all goes according to plan, I’ll be moving out of that hell-hole-of-a-house-I-now-live-in in the next couple of weeks and will get my internet from a company that will actually let me have it.
Also, it now occurs to me that most of you have NO idea what I’m referring to my current residence as “that hell-hole-of-a-house-I-now-live-in” because I haven’t been able to tell you ALL THE HORRORS I’VE ENDURED.
Yes, I know I was swooning about the place a few months ago, but that was before I became a lonely old spinster and had to fend for myself.
Here’s a fun fact: lonely old spinsters are ABUSED by the world.
I will tell you tales of evil landlords, vile housemates, dirt-encrusted abodes and other such horros.
But not in this post.
Because it’s already quite long and I have to ease you back into this labour of love that is called “Putting Aside An Hour Of My Day To Read Hermia’s Posts”.
Do you know what’s strange? Actually being called Hermia in real life. Seriously…it’s bizarre…but lovely…but bizarre.
So I’ll end this and will begin another post and you’ll have at least two posts to keep you company over the next 2 weeks.
Having some internet issues at the moment (damn you, UPC, you cheating bastards!!! *shakes fist*).
It’s a bit frustrating considering I was just starting to get back into the swing of posting again, but there you go.
I am trying my best to get it sorted though, so fingers crossed I’ll be back soon!
On a positive note, I still have my Blackberry and can continue to stalk you all on Twitter in the meantime….
In the grand scheme of things, it mightn’t seem like something worth reporting, but I felt it was a turning point.
It ran out about three weeks ago.
For the first while, it wasn’t a problem, I simply put a box of tissues I had lying around into the bathroom and went about my business (no pun intended).
About a week after that, the tissues ran out.
Grocery shopping and general life functioning has been a little beyond me in recent times (see previous post), so it wasn’t a simple matter of going to the supermarket.
The problem needed to be fixed with as little movement on my part as possible.
So I turned to my freakishly large stash of kitchen paper and placed a roll of it in the bathroom.
I don’t know if many of you have used kitchen towel in this manner, but it’s not the softest substance out there.
However I stubbornly continued to use it rather than go to the effort popping out to the shop to get quilted-heaven or even making a note of it to be remembered the next time I left the house.
Yesterday though, in a spacey moment where I zoned out and forgot to take the turn into my still-kinda-new abode, I found myself heading towards the local shop.
I didn’t freak out at the realisation of what I was about to do.
The horror of responsible shopping disappeared and a calm settled over me.
I went into the shop and bought a four-pack of Cushelle toilet paper.
And also bread rolls because I now needed to rebel against something …in this case, my gluten intolerance.
Screw you, Intestines *shakes fist*
I walked home with the smug satisfaction of a grown-up.
That’s right, people, I’m going to use actual toilet paper and it’s not even that cheap stuff -it’s quilted, oooooooo
I dropped my bags and coat in the sitting room and ran up the stairs to the bathroom.
Locking the door, I walked towards the toilet…and realised I’d left the toilet paper downstairs.
I paused for a second and contemplated.
I’d gone to the effort of buying it, so why stop there? I should go down and get it.
But…it was all the way out the door and down the stairs…
And so I used the kitchen towel yet again and the toilet paper is still sitting in that bag in my sitting room waiting to make its way up the stairs.
Baby steps, eh?
Turns out that Single Me is a train wreck.
Relationship Me was definitely heading down a better path.
Single Me hasn’t cooked one single decent meal in three weeks.
There may have been the odd piece of fruit, but in general, she will sit on the couch hungry rather than actually cook something.
She has no idea what’s in the fridge or the cupboard.
On the rare occasion she does bother her arse to cook something, it will usually involve frozen chips and gravy.
Relationship Me barely knew what a freezer was.
Clothes haven’t been washed, bins haven’t been emptied, the bathroom floor must be checked for underwear before visitors use the facilities.
But the worst thing facing Single Me is The Dishes.
I have always hated doing dishes.
When Relationship Me was living with Him, we had a deal -I did all the cooking and He did the dishes.
Now Single Me is forced to deal with them…and is fighting every step of the way.
Things got so bad last week that I had to keep the kitchen door closed because the dirty plates and cups were starting to smell. The next day, and less than an hour before I was to receive a gentleman caller, I stood in front of the washing machine for a good five minutes contemplating whether or not there were moral or ethical (or dignity) issues in hiding all the dirty crockery in the machine for the duration of his stay .
In the end, I made a compromise with myself -I just kept him out of the kitchen.
Relationship Me was an actual grown up.
She understood the importance of health insurance and savings and eating healthily.
Single Me just doesn’t seem to give a crap.
I feel I’m regressing back to the middle of my college years and wonder how long it will be before I show up drunk for work.
There’s an internal struggle where I pine for what I was, but love the freedom of where I am.
I’m being ridiculous and irresponsible and the weight of Life has been partially lifted from my shoulders.
Yes, it might seem that at 24 I should be moving forward instead of backwards, but feck it, I spent my early twenties trying to the A Grown-Up and look at where that got me!
Grey hairs and stress-related IBS.
So for now, I think I”ll enjoy the craziness and worry about tomorrow tomorrow (or maybe in a few months time).
And until then, I’ll take a trip to Tesco and stock up on paper plates and cups….