Sunday, December 22, 2013

Hot and sticky

I was awake at 8am. I’d been dreaming about schools, no, country roads, no, tracks and… oh… um… (Santo has now put a computer game on the TV and I can’t think) People were trying to get somewhere, I was trying to get somewhere. I think there were muddy roads and difficulty travelling. I woke up, ah! Shake of the head. Oh?

I got out of bed, the light was still shadowy. I bent over to pick up my laptop from the desk and I involuntarily farted. Burble burble.

“Lovely.” Santo’s voice broke the quiet.

Oops. He was awake now, I thought. So I let the rest of the fart go. It burbled long and low.

“Just lovely,” said Santo.

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Lovely," Santo said again.

I don't know to write? It is a quiet Sunday morning. My boyfriend and my dog and my cat are sitting next to me.

The dog tried to play with cat and the cat headed into the front of the house.

We watched cats doing funny things on YouTube.

We've done our chores, all done. Santo insisted. Back yard sweeping, dusting, vacuuming, kitchen cleaning, clothes washing. Santo thinks I am a lazy arse, shrug, I guess he is right.

It is overcast and humid, dark and sticky, grey and thick. Lady Gaga sings Applause.

I walked to the supermarket to get milk. I got port wine jelly and blueberries. I also go whole meal bread, thickly sliced for toast. Ah, Sunday, you've got to love them.

It was raining as I headed off. My old legal firm umbrella is the umbrella of choice, it’s a golf sized umbrella, it keeps me the driest. I guess, the company had to be good for one thing. That is the only thing about carrying that umbrella, is that it is advertising the "hell" legal company. I want to get a black texta and write, is a shit firm, and, is a shit place to work, graffiti style on the white panels. I wonder what they'd do if ever they saw it? Is it free speech? I wonder.

On the way back, I saw an abandoned bag of supermarket shopping, followed by a smashed pair of sunglasses, followed by a discarded pair of, some what, stretched pink knickers. My mind reeled with plot lines. What happened in the middle of the night? Although, a bag of shopping would indicate that the middle of the night wasn't, perhaps, the actual time.

A bit further along, Awesome Dog was sitting on the veranda of his student house, in his canvass pants, with a discernable bulge, his cute blond-hair-framed face, flushed red, with ever so slightly wonky eyes. He thumbs up’d and muttered, “G’day mate.” I didn’t have Buddy with me, so he didn’t smile broadly and say, “Awesome Dog.”

A bit further along and not far from home, a strapping builder crouched down in front of me and started doing something with the floor of the house he is renovating, facing me was his tan pants, the elastic top of his white undies and the delicate hairs of the top of his furry arse crack.

Well, look at that, I thought.