Autism & Murdering Trees

Yesterday I woke up with the intention of  working on an assignment, but I ended up murdering trees instead.

Tree genocide (in the form of wasting paper pointlessly) is not something I'll proudly add to the Achievements section of my CV (it's surprising that so many agencies still use paper in this digital age).  Tbf, if I'd dealt with the growing mass of forms a bit sooner, it wouldn't have become such a big chore......  but it's nice to have something to complain about.

I was kinda hoping that if I ignored the forms long enough, they'd disappear, or maybe even complete themselves.  But they sullenly remained un-disappeared and un-completed.  Anyway, it reached a tipping point where I was either gonna have to change my identity and flee the country, or put on my Big Girl pants and dive in.

So I dove in.

I completed a form reviewing my Carer's Allowance (€39 per week to spend wantonly as I please).  The paperwork required for this alone is eye-watering.  They wanted hard copies of three months of bank statements (approximately 8000 pages) and my husband's payslips. I can still hear the trees screaming.  More worrying though, is the prospect that they'll further cut my allowance.  How will I maintain my lavish lifetsyle?  I may have to find a sugar daddy to keep me in Bollinger and Lacroix (sorry Husband Dear, but I'm being penalised for you working hard.  What's a girl to do?).

I booked my NCT.  Next appointment available is August.  Wtf.

I filled out a tax form for the dentist.  The same form I fill out EVERY visit.  Sigh.

I started a form applying for adult services for Finian.  It cunningly tricked me into a false sense of security with its apparent simplicity..... until I realised that I need to catalogue 17 years worth of schools, services and hospital admissions.  I literally can't remember what I did 2 hours ago.  The ink may now be unreadable due to my bitter tears.  Hate that.

I booked a smear test and ordered prescriptions.  Disappointingly easy.

Then I tackled Finian's prescription sheets for respite, which now need to be taken to my GP, collected in a few days and then returned to the respite centre.  Reassuringly complicated.

All powered by a triple espresso and a family-sized bar of wholenut.

As a great philosopher once said, what a load of bollox.

More strangers know my PPSN than friends know my phone number.  

I could have spent a happy morning eating doughnuts, judging dysfunctional families on Say Yes to the Dress, or buying impractical online fuckery.  Or doing responsible parenting stuff, obvs.

Wasting time, energy and resources, repeating the same information to the same people, makes the Trials of Hercules look elementary.  He'd tap out in five minutes of being a special needs parent.

the trees are screaming