I feel a bit cursed at the moment - somehow, nothing seems to go right.

As for work, I'm less unhappy with the move than I thought I would end up being, but I'm still far from thrilled with our new location.

Let me back up and explain: Since finally, the new office building we'd been scheduled to move into for ages has been actually ready, last week was spent emptying our old office and moving lock, stock and barrel (and tons of files) into the new one - which happens to be located in the same city, thankfully, but about one district further to the West (and therefore too far away from my apartment to allow me to walk to work, but I digress). Anyway, come this week, we still sit among unpacked boxed with only half our furniture, and the choices I have when I go to lunch are.... well, they're pretty pathetic, damn. The nearest public canteen is not only a good distance from our office block, but also - how shall I put it? Oh, right. Rather disgusting, blech. When I avoid that one (and I so plan to!), that leaves me with another minuscule canteen that runs out of hot meals almost before I set out at noon, a handful of pizzerias, one doner kebab, a Chinese market, a small supermarket (with not even half the selection I'm used to), and an ice cream parlor. Yay.

Now why do I think I'll cook far more often at home so I can take some packed lunch with me to work? :::sigh:::

Next thing giving me indigestion (figuratively, dammit!) is the skirt of the Tudor-style dress I ordered for the LARP con in May. The damn thing was too long, so I took it with me to my parents in the hopes of my mother and I finding the time to hem it shorter. However, when I slept in on the Saturday in question, my mother wanted to help and tried to hem the dress using fabric glue and a hot iron. I still can't picture it, but apparently she heated the iron to insane temperatures and managed to burn about a quarter of the hemline of the skirt before realizing what had happened.

I didn't flip my lid, told her it wasn't that bad, and, once back home, grabbed the skirt (made of dark blue navy velvet with one smaller panel of blue-and-gold brocade) and proceeded to trawl through all the textile stores in the surrounding area in the hopes of happening on a similar shade of velvet (the seller I bought the dress from only had the brocade still in store - of which I ordered 1 1/2 yards). Of course, I wasn't successful. Instead, I had to settle for a blue velvet that was at least the same quality, if not the shade.

I then figured out how to put together a skirt made of the surviving panels as well as a few more narrow inserts of the newly-bought velvet bordered by yet even smaller strips of brocade (to separate the two different shades of blue). Only: the seamstress recommended to me has taken 2 1/2 weeks to finally arrive at the conclusion that my idea is too difficult for her to understand, much less implement, that she daren't start cutting the fabrics, and that, in conclusion, I now have three intact (and one burnt) panels, two bundles of newly-bought fabrics, and no idea how to continue.

Unfortunately, the damn panels are not just segments of a circle, but curve in and out towards the seam (to achieve the drape of the finished skirt, I suppose), and considering I have to shuffle them to new places in order to replace the missing panel, I'm--I'm overwhelmed. My sewing machine is broken, my sewing skills are rather basic, and I--I-- I can't fucking do this. And I don't know what to do now.

I hate this fucking shit. I want a damned vacation from my life.

And yes, I'm aware that I'm making a mountain out of a molehill, and that in the world, there a tons of people with real problems. People who don't feel sorry for themselves.

Still, I think I need to sulk.

Too bad sulking never solved anything.

Meep.