It's A Lovely Sunday

It is a sunny morning, up early. It is cool, but it just feels like it is going to be hot.

It was 6.20am when Sam got up and had a piss. I had a full bladder and a blocked up nose. I got up and pissed, but my nose was still blocked as I lay back in bed. 

I was awake. I got up.

I made coffee and rolled a joint. A Sunday joint.

I watered the back garden. It is lovely out in the fresh morning breeze. I vacuumed immediately afterwards, just to get it over and done with. I watered all the indoor plants, all before 8am.

I roll another joint – it’s Sunday, live a little – and I water the front yard. I get a spurt on, I decide to go inside and do the vacuuming immediately. I roll another joint and vacuum.

All before 8am. 

I drink my yakult and take my fish oil and lysine tablets and laugh to myself, what is it all for? I want to be there at the end. I am going to be there at the end, I’m not going to miss out on anything. Me and Sam and everybody else. Everyone I know. (I was never prepared for friends dying early)

It makes me wonder what it is all for? I look at my mother in the nursing home all wizened up and staring blankly, knowing she’d hate that. We cleaned out her house in a weekend. Two days, maybe a couple more the next weekend, but essentially her life was obliterated in a matter of days. Gone. House rented out. All she has left is what she has with her in a six by three room, with sensible furniture. Everything, this university educated, world travelled, much loved woman ever had. Gone in days, dispersed across our homes, eBay and various rubbish tips in between. That’s all you get at the end, a six by three room and your meals on time. A cathedra and the muscles gone at the rear.

So, what do I want to be there for at the end? Mushy food and somebody who is paid to wipe your arse whenever it is needed. Prop you up. Wrap a blanket around you when it is cold.

I don’t know what the grand prize could possibly be?

But I know I don’t want to miss anything in between. Funny, aren't we, never want to miss a thing. Inquisitive?... 

Shake of the head. Gaze out the back windows to my beautiful garden, which I have created. I learned how to water it, that's all, so simple, now it is lush and green. My new gardenia flowered for the very first time. Everybody said they were hard to grow, but I do have green thumbs.

We sort out the wardrobes. We sorted all the clothes. Oh yeah, biggly cleaning day, Sam couldn’t help but cream his jocks. 

I wash all of the clothes and hung them on the line. Well, of course I do, that is what you do with sorted clothes, after all

All before 11am. We are fucking amazing! Truthfully, I can’t help but feel a bit of a loser for spending so much time on the cleaning. 

The rest of the day is going to be a blur, if I have anything to do with it. I momentarily catch myself wondering if Jill will cancel because she cancels all the time, and I chastise myself for smoking pot and wanting to withdraw from the world. You can smoke, as long as you make yourself do things. Get up and do it, it will be very pleasant when you are stoned.

Maybe we should take Buddy for a walk. In the last couple of hours the sky has clouded over and the heat has gone out of the day. It rained momentarily.

Japanese banquet with Jill tonight in Chapel Street. I want to catch the tram. Well, it is inner suburban, South Yarra, and that is what you do to save the planet. I’ve got to be responsible too, I have been smoking pot all day.

We caught the tram around 6.30pm, a bit before. We discovered that our Japanese banquet coupon can only be used on Sundays at lunch time. Jill arrived relatively on time. She arrived in a white cotton shirt with a huge multi-coloured splash across the front of it. And white pants. She looked like a giant fruit salad in a white bowl.

“You are looking very Gold Coast,” I just had to say.

“You don’t think too much white is worn in Chapel Street?” Jill replied.

“Ah… no,” I replied. 

We ate Mexican at the Jam Factory, after which we drank coffee and ate tiramisu at Café Ecucina, costing us over $60. (the coffee and desert, not the rest of it)

I was a bit bored with Jill during the evening. Was it a case of the fact that she isn’t doing much which means she doesn’t have a lot to say? Or was I just too stoned. Nyr? Balancing hands in the air. Could go either way. Chuckle. Am I a bitch, or what, one of my oldest friends. 

Afterwards we walked Jill for miles to her car. I suggested she drove us home, but she said, “Ah…No,” giving the impression I was trying to take advantage of her. Really? From the girl we’d just walked halfway across a fucking suburb, who has nothing to do with her life tomorrow, or any day for that matter. Oh well… I should have said, When did you become such a lousy bitch? but, I didn’t. And I didn’t want a lift after that. Jill dropped us off back at Chapel Street and we caught the tram.

We walked from Church Street.

We were home by 9.30pm. We watched teev until midnight.