I turned on my laptop and made coffee and poured my muesli into a bowl and started to read the news… telling myself that I would only stay logged in for as long as it took me to have my breakfast.
Today was the day that my credit card and phone bill had to be paid, so I had no choice, I had to actually do things that were constructive. Around the 20th of the month always, except they seemed to be crawling back a day, I can only assume, because of my continual late payment. Once they all used to be due on 25th. The sneaky corporate world. So I had to break away from my computer addiction and tend to other matters.
I thought about my credit card. $200 to pay, still no balance being carried over from month to month, so at least there was that.
Qantas Rewards, really? I’ve never redeemed a reward from this credit card ever. I should swap back over to my old 55 days in cycle credit card, and at least get longer credit to use… and a substantially less annual fee. A few years ago I looked into it and discovered that the 50 thousand dollars that I had spent over the years amassing my 100 thousand points gave me approx… ah, er… $300 to spend in Myer. “Really, that’s it?” I remember saying to the operator on the other end, who no doubt tried to make a being deal out of what I was going to receive. You know, girle shiver, Christmas! They really are a con, rewards my arse. In exchange for 20 days less of free credit, it is ridiculous. There is no reason not to swap credit cards now, as both my credit cards are on zero.
I should swap over to my longer credit cycle credit card and pay all of my bills on that, instead of debiting my bank account, as that is now charged out as interest against my mortgage and is no longer the ridiculous interest earned.
My end of period for my old credit card in 29th of the month. Bugger! That’s inconvenient.
Is it a trap using my credit card?
Is it better to use cash out of my bank account?
What to do?
I wrote out a cheque for my credit card. I had to pay the (name of phone company) phone bill, my mobile and that pesky water bill that is a month over due, not that that is anyone’s fault but my own. I decided to pay them with the cash in my wallet from Shane’s rent, $200. That left me another $200 till next Friday. I can always take money out of the bank if I run out, effectively delaying a withdrawal indefinitely.
Get going out the door, it was after midday and all the office surfs would be heading out to lunch and filling the queues. When I got to the bank I was the third in line, with two tellers both with customers, one on crutches and one an Indian chap. All of us had black leather on, just as it turned out, the two guys in front of me, the fidgety one, and the cute guy not off his phone for more than a few minutes at a time, and the Indian and the cripple. The cute guy on his phone turned and eyed me when I came to stand behind him, but when the two pretty girls came to stand behind me he didn’t even twitch, much less turn around to look at them, my conclusion, of course, was that he was a big poof. The two customers at the tellers seemed to take an inordinate amount of time, however, I was more fascinated with the fact that everyone was dressed in black leather than how long any of them were taking. Clearly a sign of too much time on my hands?
We waited and the line grew and grew.
The girl on crutches just seemed to want to talk and the Indian guy seemed to have complicated paperwork, which seemed to need more and more attention. Finally, the girl on crutches hobbled away and the guy at the head of the line proceeded to the vacant teller nervous and fidgeting. He only seemed to want to do a simple withdrawal but he wouldn’t stop talking and second guessing the teller and they seemed to go backwards and forwards between him handing over his card and taking it back and being directed to use the key pad closest to him, talking over each other, all the time he seemed to be telling her his pin number at any chance he seemed to get. But soon enough he was thanking her and the bank in general, patting his pockets and holding his paperwork in the air in victorious success, as if he’d been awarded some prize, or had won some trophy..
The next guy announced to the teller that he wanted to do a fourteen thousand dollar withdrawal, as he approached her, loud enough for anyone, well, me to hear. He clearly wasn’t frightened about beng held up as he left the premises.
“Oh,” the teller said.
“I rang and organised it yesterday?”
“Oh,” the teller said.
A guy from out the back came out and asked if any one had a non-cash transaction and I said I did, but some how a credit card bill and a cheque to pay it didn’t count as anon-cash transaction. I didn’t question it, as I was at the front of the queue by then.
A fat wog guy three back complained that there was only one teller on and surely there were more staff?
It was pointed out to him that there were two tellers on.
“Oh, you can’t count him, they have been doing vhat ever they are dong for hours.” He continued to snort and huff and look around and snipe.
Then Mr Big Withdrawal was done.
“I’m sorry for the wait.”
“Oh, that’s okay, no problem.”
She laughed and apologised again.
“I don’t care I’m not in a hurry.”
“I think some people might be.”
“I’m not, I’ve got all day.”
“Lucky you.”
“I must get a job one of these days.”
She laughed again.
I kicked myself for not taking my camera down Smith Street to take photos of all the shops that are soon to be demolished because of the great Smith Street development that nobody really wants, which is just about to start. Fuck it! I had my phone this time and the sun was shining and I could take some photos until I remember to return with my camera to take proper shots. All but one of the shops are now vacant, just the doctor’s surgery to go. Most of the shops have been vacated recently and it is amazing to see that most of the windows are now covered in posters and signs of some sort.
I headed to the post office. I sent the latest notification from the tax department for my soon to be wound up self managed super fund to (accountant’s name) still with demands for the thousands of dollars in fines for late tax return lodgements, don’t ask, after I bought a book of twenty stamps out of mum’s account. Before I left the post office I bought a copy of The Rose also paid for out of mum’s money. Ten bucks, it wouldn’t be questioned.
I decided to take the last of my family negatives to the specialist photography shop in Carlton to get them put onto dvd while I had spare time to get them done, instead of thinking that I must get them done one day and never doing it. Who cares about the money, it can’t cost that much after all. These last twenty, or so, are of a larger black and white format which won’t fit in my slide scanned at home.
It was a lovely day for a walk to Carlton. I crossed Lygon Street and crossed the park. I contemplated asking Shane out for lunch in an attempt to change my mean ways and reconnect, but I wondered what we would talk about. I scanned to shops on the other side of the park and none of them seemed to be the photography shop any longer. I should have phoned, except I didn’t know the name. I probably hadn’t been there for ten years, so what did I expect?
Oh fuck it!
I headed to Killiney to eat Nasi Lemak. I ordered and asked if they had water. The cute man who owns it asked where Sam was.
“Oh, he is at work.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I don’t work.”
He smiled his pretty smile, which was a cross between surprise and admiration. I headed to my table with my newspaper. I guess it must be true that I like saying that. What is that, twice today? Yes, I believe it is.
I walked home feeling fat. Really fat. Maybe bloated. I wondered if it was the Metamucil I’ve been taking. I seem to remember giving it up the last time I took it for exactly that reason… feeling fat and tight and bloated. Hmmmm? My morning health drink – Metamucil, apple cider vinegar, Olive leaf extract, all washing down six fish oil tablets and a lysine – may have to be rethought.
I was going to watch The Rose and write my journal, but I settled on The Last Time I saw Paris, keeping The Rose to watch with Sam.
I had the chronic farts, as I sat in front of the fire and wrote my journal in the late afternoon. I don’t know what was going on with my insides… So, of course, I had to message Sam to tell him. He comes from a family where clearly there was no “pooh talk” not ever. And I come from a family where “pooh talk” was encouraged. And it is always amusing to watch, hear, him squirm.
“I stink!”
“You are disgusting.”
Shane has washed washing every night this week but hasn’t hung any out. I think he keeps washing the clothes and keeps forgetting to hang them out and rewashes them the next night. I think he has done this all week.
He tells me he is going to Sydney tomorrow and then he departs saying he is finally returning the vacuum to D. I spoke to D at least a month ago and he was asking then what had happened to his vacuum.
I haven’t told Shane that I got a vacuum from Jill last week, which is still in the back of my car. I took it when Jill offered it to me, despite being loathed to get involved. Shane was supposed to be looking after Guadalupe and all things Guadalupe, that was the deal for me to continue paying for her, when I suggested to Shane that I didn’t want her any more. Now, despite already having it, and despite it being a nice thing to do, I suspect that if I offer up the vacuum then I would have bought back into it and suddenly it will be me organising Guadalupe. That’s how it works, that’s how Shane works. It’s like having and AVO and inviting the person back into you house, it is all over bar the shouting.
I bet you the washing is still in the washing machine when Shane has left for Sydney. And as he seems to be back using my clothes horses, if he hangs it out it will mean that I won’t be able to do any washing all weekend. Yay!
Shane came home earlier than I expect, or he expected by his declaration before he left, with a bag of fish and chips. I assume D had different ideas to Shane. Shane gave me the definite impression that he wouldn’t be home until late, that clearly he’d be out for dinner. I reckon that D is pissed off about the vacuum. Shane doesn’t treat D well, and I don’t think he ever sees it.
Then he watched Big Bang Theory with me, with that annoying laugh he has, which sounds like he is continually gasping for breath. Like old aunt Maude getting a fright… continually. Or someone with Tourette’s. It’s annoying and I was pleased when he said he was going to pack.
I stayed up until late. Why not, I’ve got nothing to do tomorrow. I have no work. Actually, it is Sam’s birthday tomorrow and I am going to cook for him.
I think I turned the light off at 4am. I so easily develop vampire hours when I’m not working.
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