Tuesday

Er! Tuesday.

Nothing to do. No, nothing. I can’t even find stuff to do, as I have done all the things I had been putting off. Everything is done. I have no idea what Boris does when she is here, not that I am doing her job, of course, but nobody is asking me for anything in her absence. I thought I’d be bothered by all the punters, constantly, but no, not since TheMidget.

I’m glad I am working from home, though, as I am just pissing around on my own laptop. Writing my blog. Looking at Bruce Weber images, keeping one eye on my emails.

David distracted me up for a minute.

Mid morning, David called. He woke up to itching in his groin, he panicked thinking, OMG! This is the pox! It must monkey pox. Oh God! How did I get monkey pox? He quickly sent off photos to the doctor. 

“Look, look, between the 3rd fat roll and the 4th fat roll, can you see it?" I said. "Poor bastard.”

David laughed. “I think he gets more than well compensated for all the disgusting things he has to look at.”

“Could you imagine, gay men coming in all day every day with puss dripping out of any/every orifice.”

His doctor responded. “No luv, that looks like jock itch, go to the chemist and get canestin cream.” 

“It’s as banal as Tinea in the groin,” David said.

"Thrush, luv, your cunt's got thrush."

He is now lathered in cream. “I may have put a little much on, it is a disaster down there.”

He has now cancelled everything, his work in Brisbane this week, the wedding in Melbourne this weekend, and the Spice Girls Tribute concert with his mate Andrew on Friday night.

He’s called the dog walker to walk CharChi.

He has crawled into bed to watch Friends, Sex and the City, and Elvis.

He’s going to order pizza.

“I’m exhausted,” he said. “But I guess travelling for 3 ½ months is exhausting.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

Still, what do I care, the sun is shining and the sky is blue.

My lunch has been made for me.

And I have a bulldog snoring at my feet.