I google it – mostly I am seeing if I have spelt aspidistra correctly – I am surprised what else comes up. First of all, it says that the type of flower was important. Yes, well, who can say. Next it says the colour of the flower is significant. What colour is plywood?
Was I giving, or receiving the flowers? Um neither.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, apparently, it's beauty, emotion, or an attempt to make things better.
OMG! Then I come across a post of what dreams about wood mean. It may represent someone with the last name of Wood, or Woods. (raised eyebrows) Dreams about plywood may represent being cheap. (I see) Who cares what dreams mean anyway.
I message LouLou to see if she is free during the weekend. She messages back that she is busy. “Good for my bank account.” We pencil in a date for 3 weekends forward. But, I have dared to think about smoking pot. I know it, I can feel it. My usual wings-of-steel against, um, such things had come off maximum power. I can feel it.
I don't have breakfast before we leave home at 10am. “We’ll get something,” says Sam.
I go to Cash Converters and find the two U2 CDs I've been looking for, “Pop”, and “All That You Can't Leave Behind,” however, Northcote Cash Converters charges $3 for each CD and Fitzroy only charges $1. I only buy them because they are $1, that’s my justification. The only use they are to me is to be uploaded into iTunes, otherwise I have Apple Music, which covers everything, Sam continually points out.
And I have bought all the U2 Greatest Hits, all for $1, anyway. I have a tight arse moment, “$6 for CDs I don’t really need, no, the thought of a realist, I don’t really need them... at $6. At $1 for a whole album, that is cheaper than one track on iTunes.
We go to Northcote plaza, it has always been a miserable fucking dump, and once we can find the way in, every doorway looks like sewer, we head to Aldi. I’ve always thought that was telling about Northcote Plaza, never being able to find the way in. What does that say? Even Aldi looks cheap and that takes some doing.
All the PS4s are sold, “Sold out in the first hour, luv,” says Maddison manning the checkout.
Sam says that is curious. “They weren’t all that cheap, not really.”
None of the cafes/restaurants are open for food yet, up High Street, it is still not midday. So, I still haven’t eaten.
We go to the pet food shop, we park right out in front. We buy Buddy his chow. We change back to the original brand, BlackHawk. The cute son is there, he always says hello. It is worth going just to get that hello out of that handsome boy.
Buddy has been getting fat, everybody has commented. Even dogs get fat-shamed now a days. Has it been since we changed brands? Could be? It is worth a shot.
So, of course, we are close to the Preston Market. “We might as well go grocery shopping.” I look at Sam, easy for you to say, I think, Mr perpetually chauffer driven. Still no food. Sam gets out, as soon as we turn into the Preston Market car park, leaves me in the line of traffic, he wants to go to Aldi to look for a play station we’ll never use.
“But it can play Blu-Ray.”
“Which we never watch,” we carol together.
I stop in the far parking lot lane right at the beginning, and just wait, my usual Preston Market routine. Someone always eventually goes, otherwise it is a shit fight just driving around and around, missing car spot after car spot. I’ve been waiting five minutes, when a guy in a blue Corolla pulls in in front of me. People go to a car a bit further along. The guy in the blue Corolla backs up to the front of my car and puts his indicator on. I still haven’t eaten. Sam arrives back at the car. I toot the blue Corolla. He puts his hand out the window and waves me passed. People go to a car further along again. I think fuck it, and pull passed him to take the second car spot. Those people deposit something in their car and walk away. The first car backs out. I try to back up and reclaim the spot, before the blue Corolla, but it is useless. He steals my car park, I still haven't eaten. He gets his kid out of the back of his car, then he walks passed our open car window.
I tell him that he is everything that is wrong with the world, "I hope you never complain about selfish cunts in this world, mate,” I say.
“I didn’t know you were waiting for the car spot,” he says. “You didn’t have your blinker on.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say through the open passenger window. “What do you think I was doing?”
He offers to move his car in the smarmy-git way he’d done everything else. I don't believe him and tell him to, "fuck off!"
I go to Cash Converters to see the price of their CDs, more than a dollar, “Herumph!” I gaze at the DVDs, as I turn to walk out, I see the 5th season of Weeds, out of the corner of my eye, what are the chances of that?
The CDs, I want? The DVD, I want?
Sam is already in the dumpling eatery across the street.
I slump down in the chair. There is a small Asian girl at the next table who is talking incessantly. I look at Sam. He looks at me. I go to the toilet. I look in the dirty mirror, I am unshaven. I have toothpaste around the corners of my mouth, I have a white head pimple on my chin, and I have hairs hanging out of my nose. I was once beautiful, I think, as I grab the nose hairs between two finger nails and pull.
They are slow with the food.
There is a small Asian girl at the next table who is talking incessantly, I mean like a dement little cunt, she never stops.
“Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah! Bah!” I am not exaggerating, that is literally what she is saying, at one point.
I plot her death. I think it involves smashing her forehead into the polished concrete floor, or a toothless parolee in a public toilet.
The food comes for me, and the kid. We are both quietened down, me mentally, she verbally.
The food makes me nicer, quickly. Sugar levels return to joyous.
She really is a beautiful kid. I kind of feel sorry for her when I notice both her parents are staring down at their phones and ignoring her completely.
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