Friday, August 31, 2012
I was up in time and left at the normal time, 9am. Lovely isn’t? I mean I didn’t sleep in, today, for whatever reason may have caused that. He, he. 2am shut eye? Surely not? What are you saying? My third alarm was set on 8.15, so I straightened that out. I’m always worried about sleeping in a again. No, I guess that is something I have got over.
I sneaked out for more cigarettes, feeling naughty. Funny how times change. Once it was perfectly acceptable to go out for a smoke, but now it is frond upon. I don’t think tolerated at all in temps. I think-those-who-winge (read conservative) are getting the upper hand.
(my boss) didn’t say anything, but I wondered on one occasion out on Collins Street, shootin’ the breeze, watching in awe of the building work going on across the street, if she was saying to (the HR Girl),
“Where does he keep going?”
I laughed because I didn’t care.
My boss is the busy-busy-busy, no-time, not-enough-time, where-did-the-time-go types. She’s super mum with a no hoper husband, hand over mouth, from the phone conversations I’ve over heard.
She instructs me once, badly. She’s not so amazingly articulate. I’ve made mistakes, continue to do so.
Yeah, I can pick them. Maybe Smoking Brenda wasn’t so bad. I just get the feeling that she doesn’t like me so much. My boss, not Smoking Brenda. It’s a bit unnerving, it causes forced errors, because I am always second guessing myself.
Just think, I could now go out and gaze at the wasteland with Smoking Brenda. Be still my beating heart.
I must stop smoking. How did that happen?
Santo and I met on the corner of Russell Street and La Trobe. I sat on the old jail steps, it was quite nice sitting there. We managed to both get to the same corner for once. Yay, for us! I went to Exhibition, he went to Spring. Except, I was mistaken and I was, actually, on Russell Street. Another time it was Exhibition and Lonsdale and Latrobe and Exhibition. We keep getting it wrong, and mostly it seems to be me who get’s it wrong.
Santo and I went to the supermarket to by dinner. We made quiche, third attempt. The last two have leaked egg on the way to the oven, in my old two piece tin, so we bought a new flan tin. White. Porcelain. We had a salad, with the usual argument about putting tomatoes in it. Santo likes a strictly Green Salad, where I like loading it up with extras. He especially hates that dry bean mix which I am so fond of.
When we first met I put raw mushrooms in the salad and he thought I was some kind of weirdo, he told me later.
We managed it today with tomato and avocado and he had to admit afterwards that the avocado was good in the salad. Funny, because he is always yipping on about “layers” and “body” in food.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
I made mistakes at work today. I think I caught them all. I’m sure.
It’s just a phase I am going through. What do they care, they get to take time off for sick kids. Oh yes, I’m not permanent. I keep forgetting that one.
I deleted a whole file. Idiot. But I didn’t do my usual own up to it, pathetic squawk, I simply recreated the whole complicated spread sheet, zip, done.
(bosses name) doesn’t give me any warmth. None. I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable with her, just a little, like my time in the house is up. Bye bye Collins Street.
Am I bonged-over and uncommunicative?
I figure I get to ask one question once. You know, there never was a dumb question, just the dummy who didn’t ask it. I can’t read my boss’ expressions. I don’t need to be told again, generally. And I don’t make mistakes – unless I have been smoking pot – generally, but lately I don’t know if she is looking at me like a I’m a dummy, or if she has Botox injections, paralysis of the face, simple she has a very blank expression.
I sneaked out for two cigarette breaks. Fuck it. I always think that no one notices what I do, so I do take a few liberties, you know like a permanent salt picker would be entitled to, but not a temp salt picker.
The full disaster, like a pariah, tossed onto the street. Oh god, back out with them, how did this happen. Oh yes, mari.
I bought cigarettes on the way home. It was chilly. I photographed the elephants in the park.
I made tea and headed to my room.
I had pot to smoke
Shane and Tuli went out.
I was smoking pot on the balcony.
Shane called out from the street. I was sitting on the balcony with my laptop smoking a reefer. I didn’t want my hideout to be discovered. Sitting on my balcony I am the most number of doors away from people as I can get. So waited a moment until I could hear Shane on the front path, I pushed my French Doors open and stood up. I knew he would be paying so close attention to pick it.
“I’m locked out.”
He didn’t pay attention, he was looking at his reflection in the car window… and it was only ever about Shane’s access to the house that was the issue.
“Yes, yes, coming, coming.”
I swung the door open with a smile.
“I thought it was better to get the key before I left, but for you are sleeping, or something neryuk neryuk, neryuk.”
“Oh… yes… ha, ha, ho, ho.”
Not a word, nothing. Have I’ve got some thing to tell you, ask you, whatever. Nothing.
Shane and Tuli went out.
I made baked beans and toast. And a cup of tea, of course.
I drink a lot of coffee at work, I must ask someone if that is okay and that if it is indeed “open slather” as I am treating it. Have coffee machine, will drink coffee.
I smoked pot.
I spoke to Anthony on the phone. He thinks he’s had another stroke, he lost the use of his hand for a week. I told him to go to the doctor. He said he had, and he has to go for tests on a Monday appointment.
That’s what he was trying to tell me, when I brushed him off because of the cold. I’m a top notch friend.
Then I catch myself home alone taking photos of Ray on Big Brother, locked away in my room, wasted, and I wonder if I am going completely mental. I like messing around with images, it gives me photoshop practice.
I lay in bed and watched The Big Bang Theory. I love Sheldon.
Shane and Tuli came home.
I went down stairs and got all of my mum’s bills out. And made tea. I called my sister about some mail that had been sent to me and not to her. We discussed my mortgage and she has discussed it with my brother and I’m going to get most of my mortgage paid off.
I made more tea.
We sold an investment property, the money is available. My brother and sister don’t care.
I won’t have to have any more housemates, if I don’t want. Although I probably should, reduced work means reduced superannuation payments too, you know, for later. You have to think about that stuff. Apparently?
Two housemates would now pay my mortgage. Maybe one housemate. He he.
I wrote out the cheques and the dreaded envelopes, and wondered if I’d be better off with internet banking for my mum, with a whistle and a can do demeanour. It would make things easier.
Life was gong to be easier.
I blew a joint before I spoke to the computer lady, and had to push all those buttons on telephone banking, because it helps me to focus narrowly, and the chore becomes a float on a breeze. I do a little dance as I push each button.
I went in and asked Shane to witness my, apparently lost, privacy statement for work. Not a peep about the wedding. I‘ve been meaning to send it back by return post but I keep forgetting about the witness. Grrr!
All done, just like that. Funny how the things you put off, are sometimes the easiest to fix.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
I woke up at 9am, 8.50. I had woken up with my alarm at 7am, to lie in bed listening to the radio until 8am, with three alarms going off at various times, but I must have fallen back to sleep. Clearly!
I felt so stoned walking down X Street this morning. Thick headed, light sensitive eyes, creaking, maybe I had over done it last night.
The walk to work usually airs out the brain, marching into work clears it, even a head ache.
But this morning?
Good I was clunking.
9.15 as I am heading down the street. The end of the street was getting closer. Please, please tram do not just sail passed as I get to the end of the street, not this morning. I crossed over Victoria heading to my tram stop. As I got to the platform I looked down the hill and could see a tram just about to arrive. Yay!
Please don’t be there! I’d left my phone at home so I didn’t actually know what time it was. Please don’t be there. I turned the corner of the office and her seat was empty. Yay!
“(bosses name) won’t be in…” said rat-faced (HR girl’s name).
Tell me the brat had died… “Oh?” concerned face. Always sticking your nose into everything, always has to be the fixer. HR to her sensible panty liners. I gazed at (HR girl’s name)
“She has to take her sick child to the doctor, she will be in in an hour or so.”
The first email said no barista this morning. Will this day ever end! I’m going to get a coffee. I might just walk back to Collins Place and get one of those pineapple muffins of which I am so fond. I’ve got an hour, after all. Let's hope there is a queue at the doctor.
She had left me an assigned task. Great.
Got the muffin.
Got the coffee.
Did the work.
Read the internet.
Just when I predicted she would be in, I started some filing. A few minutes later she walked in.
I ate Indonesian with Santo.
“You have red marks under you nose as though you have a cold. You got a cold, baby?”
“The sniffles,” he said.
Really, I thought. I don’t remember you having a cold.
Or, let’s face it, they were the type of marks you’d get from sniffing amyl.
(bosses name) told me in the afternoon that she had phoned Jack when I was in Brighton and told him, pretty much, that she didn’t care who the temp was, as long as she had one for September. She was just calculatedly looking after her interests, she was just making sure that she got what she wanted. Fair enough. But, it made me think, I’m just a temp and I shouldn’t get above my station.
Just in case I got to feel too warmly about myself.
I made tea and headed to my room.
I had pot to smoke.
I watched Big Brother.
Shane and Tuli went out.
I smoked pot.
I made baked beans and toast.
I smoked pot.
Anthony called. I gave him short shift as it was cold in the kitchen.
I made more tea.
I turned the light out at 1am.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The roller door went nuts, has thrown a cog, or something. BARP! BARP! Crunch, crunch, groan, rattle rattle. Then the motor spins but doesn’t engage.
I’ve got rego due and car insurance due the last day of the month. I was gong to renegotiate my $1000 comprehensive insurance, to 3rd party, I hope, for a few hundred dollars. The car is now insured at the vale of $8000, it doesn’t make any sense to be paying over a tenth of it’s value each year. I’ve never had an accident, although I did have my last one go p in flames. Oh, that would still be covered.
The last day in Brighton. I left home at 8.15, it took me an hour. The sun was shining, it was a lovely day. It’s nice to be out in that sort of day.
I don’t know if it is little jobs, with just as many little things as big jobs, but it always seems to take longer than I expect.
It is because I have only worked there twice, a fortnight apart. The pressure is on because their anticipation is that I get it done in 4 hours.
Today I went too far forward and completed the job, before the finance director approve it all. And there were changes and I had to pull it all back, I restored the system back, which it didn’t seem to like. And then some changes deleted and some didn’t and I was flying by the seat of my pants juggling it all in the air and I completed it all again without my usual rebalances. I’m pretty sure I got everything, but now I’m not really sure. I can’t really remember.
All I wanted to do was get home smoke a joint and go and get a haircut, I’ve been feeling like a gorilla. Euw!
I did. I got it all pulled together at work today. I work methodically, I don’t miss stuff. But it was sloppy at the end, I know that.
Let’s just hope that it wasn’t too sloppy.
Stop being paranoid. You were hungry. I was hungry. It is a part of the expectation of a 4 hour job. I should have had lunch and spent the day, it that’s what it takes, fuck their expectations.
I wonder if I am allowed any failures.
Of course, I know the answer to that, failures are not allowed.
I went and bought “Discreet” and had a hair cut. It was my usual barber, one removed. You see, there are two of them. So this is my second usual, rapidly becoming my usual usual. I’ve always though he was sexy, in a bear, fat boy kind of way. He’s always had an air about him, a way. Well, anyway, I managed to fit in two joints before I went. No one was home, it was nice. And I just closed my eyes and let him push my head around with his deft touch. It felt nice being moved and controlled and completely under the power of another man. You know, in a gentle, intimate, okay romantic if you like, kind of way. I enjoyed the rest after a stressful morning with a client. It was nice to wander off to dream land in safety.
Well, at the end of the hair cut, he got the blow dryer and the brush and he gently and tenderly blow waved my hair, every hair, starting with and paying particular attention to my part, that seemed to take time and require close concentration and intimacy. I closed my eyes and it felt good.
He has cut my hair many times and he has never done that.
At the end he said, kind of breathlessly, “Do you like?” Like it meant something to him. His eyes smiled the most when I told him that I did. My hair looked truly awful, but I smiled sweetly and he believed me.
Shane and Tuli were home when I got home.
I made a cup of tea and headed to my room. I guess I should have called out, yoohoo, maybe I should have, but as it was, they didn’t appear as I cleaned up the kitchen as the kettle boiled. As I read the mail, or looked at the bills.
I made several cups of tea after that, they didn’t make an appearance.
They left just as the light in the street had started to fade, although it was still light. Shane used to always slam the door, always, hail, rain, or shine. Now I don’t hear it.
I warmed up rice noodles from Sunday night.
Pretty much, I was smoking pot in my room, I don’t care this week. I’m more than comfortably with the world locked out, but that is nothing new.