It felt quite nice, a moment of clarity, and I know I'll be ready for Sam when he returns on Sunday. My holidays, or 2 and a half weeks of bad behaviour is nearly over. Sad Face.
I finally called my auntie to tell her how sorry I was about my uncle dying last Sunday. She's lovely. We had a nice chat. My brother told me later that we are, actually, a part of the funeral service, the six cousins are going to read out a piece. Yay. And I am a pallbearer. They would have been married for 60 years this year and they adored each other, they always had. That aspect of life seems so unfair.
I put on 2 loads of washing. I washed all the clothes from the dirty clothes hamper, so the bed room was clean. I knocked over the washing powder, and hit my funny bone on a door frame, as I was doing it. I forget what hitting my funny is like and how it hurts, as I do it so seldom.
I watered all my plants. I’m sure, I could hear them all sign with relief. How long has it been? Damn it, I spilt water all over the floor. I repotted 2 that needed it, one of them was my new Fiddle-Leaf Fig. (If you want one, they are cheap in Coles at the moment) I have it next to my baby rubber plant, grown from a cutting Sam got me from his work. I never really like rubber plants all that much, until I saw one pruned into an interesting shape in a House & Garden magazine. Then I always wanted to "nick" a bit from the shop in Gertrude Street that has one outside its door. We'd walk passed on our walk to work and Sam said he had one in his office. Sam and his "nerd boys" office, with a constantly topped up beer keg and a rubber plant neglected in the corner. No other amenities, not coffee or tea. I asked Sam to get a cutting from it, and while at the beginning he was reluctant eventually, with many reminders, he bought home a five centimetre tip cutting. It has so far grown 2 new leaves.
I noticed dust on some of my plants leaves and I took those plants outside and gave them a spray with the hose.
I went and shopped for the rest of the week, well, milk, margarine, butter, bread and sardines. I'd finished all the staples with my odd eating hours. Lots of boys in track suit pants, it must be the season. I don't mind a well built boy in a track suit pant. No, I don't think it is a sign that you have given up, quite the contrary.
I took Buddy to the dog park, although we have done that for the last few days.
Then I sent David this text – since I sent that text, I have literally, dropped things, spilt things, knocked things over, bash my elbow into a door, and tripped (over nothing as I came in the back door)
LMAO, was David's reply.
I finally called my auntie to tell her how sorry I was about my uncle dying last Sunday. She's lovely. We had a nice chat. My brother told me later that we are, actually, a part of the funeral service, the six cousins are going to read out a piece. Yay. And I am a pallbearer. They would have been married for 60 years this year and they adored each other, they always had. That aspect of life seems so unfair.
I put on 2 loads of washing. I washed all the clothes from the dirty clothes hamper, so the bed room was clean. I knocked over the washing powder, and hit my funny bone on a door frame, as I was doing it. I forget what hitting my funny is like and how it hurts, as I do it so seldom.
I watered all my plants. I’m sure, I could hear them all sign with relief. How long has it been? Damn it, I spilt water all over the floor. I repotted 2 that needed it, one of them was my new Fiddle-Leaf Fig. (If you want one, they are cheap in Coles at the moment) I have it next to my baby rubber plant, grown from a cutting Sam got me from his work. I never really like rubber plants all that much, until I saw one pruned into an interesting shape in a House & Garden magazine. Then I always wanted to "nick" a bit from the shop in Gertrude Street that has one outside its door. We'd walk passed on our walk to work and Sam said he had one in his office. Sam and his "nerd boys" office, with a constantly topped up beer keg and a rubber plant neglected in the corner. No other amenities, not coffee or tea. I asked Sam to get a cutting from it, and while at the beginning he was reluctant eventually, with many reminders, he bought home a five centimetre tip cutting. It has so far grown 2 new leaves.
I noticed dust on some of my plants leaves and I took those plants outside and gave them a spray with the hose.
I went and shopped for the rest of the week, well, milk, margarine, butter, bread and sardines. I'd finished all the staples with my odd eating hours. Lots of boys in track suit pants, it must be the season. I don't mind a well built boy in a track suit pant. No, I don't think it is a sign that you have given up, quite the contrary.
I took Buddy to the dog park, although we have done that for the last few days.
Then I sent David this text – since I sent that text, I have literally, dropped things, spilt things, knocked things over, bash my elbow into a door, and tripped (over nothing as I came in the back door)
LMAO, was David's reply.
Then Guido dropped by. Bliss.
I'm going to grow my own this year. How hard can it be? (Except, I don't really want nearly that much) Sam doesn't know it yet, he probably won't be too pleased. Funny, I always tell the truth, I always have this odd need to confess, I was, some how, born that way. In fact, I am somewhat of an over sharer when it comes to the truth and "how it is going to go down." Cop it sweet, and then do what you want to do anyway. It is a curse and a joy, ex-boyfriends have said.
"Of course it is great that you always no where you stand, it is just that your reaction doesn't trigger any form of behaviour modification in Christian, as you would expect."
When I was a teenager, I discovered I am an excellent liar. I can look someone in the face and tell a bare faced life, with ease, without breaking a sweat. And one of my early major lessons in life was that lying never served me well. It always comes out in the end. Even that long lost forgotten lie you thought had slipped by, invariably, it comes out. And now I tend to lean a little the other way, old blabs.
Sam is home Sunday morning, big smile.
I'm going to grow my own this year. How hard can it be? (Except, I don't really want nearly that much) Sam doesn't know it yet, he probably won't be too pleased. Funny, I always tell the truth, I always have this odd need to confess, I was, some how, born that way. In fact, I am somewhat of an over sharer when it comes to the truth and "how it is going to go down." Cop it sweet, and then do what you want to do anyway. It is a curse and a joy, ex-boyfriends have said.
"Of course it is great that you always no where you stand, it is just that your reaction doesn't trigger any form of behaviour modification in Christian, as you would expect."
When I was a teenager, I discovered I am an excellent liar. I can look someone in the face and tell a bare faced life, with ease, without breaking a sweat. And one of my early major lessons in life was that lying never served me well. It always comes out in the end. Even that long lost forgotten lie you thought had slipped by, invariably, it comes out. And now I tend to lean a little the other way, old blabs.
Sam is home Sunday morning, big smile.
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