Sunday

I dreamed, oh, how do I explain this dream, we were having an end of training dinner, and we seemed to have been paired up somehow and I’ve been paired up with cute Stewart Cook [a straight friend I haven't seen in years] and they’ve been jokes about us being an item and so he was jokingly, saying sweet, nothings in my ear, and I was liking it, of course. We were going to the dining room, and there was a table piled high with a mountain of food, and just because we are walking together we ended up sitting together and then I wasn’t sure whether Stewart wanted to sit with me and then he had a friend join him, and they’re only two seats and I was taking one of them and the two of them were standing looking at me as though it wasn't an issue, and I wasn’t sure whether Stewart wanted his friend to have the seat with him instead of me.

7:10am my wake up. Otto is lying on my side of the bed, on top of the doona leaving me with very little of it, so my legs are sticking out, cold.

We are lucky to be alive when we are’: a devastating gay love story returns to the stage. Thirty years after Holding the Man author Timothy Conigrave died, Belvoir St theatre’s artistic director is bringing back the play adapted from the book – with his partner in the lead role.

Alexei Navalny’s body given to mother by Russian authorities. Remains handed to Lyudmila Navalnaya nine days after Putin critic’s death in Arctic prison, say supporters.

Antarctica sea ice reaches alarming low for third year in a row. The extent of ice floating around the continent has contracted to below 2m sq km for three years in a row, indicating an ‘abrupt critical transition’.

8am. Sam and Otto get up. Sam tells me about Otto’s reaction to the flea liquid and Bruno’s diarrhea during the night at 5am which he had to deal with. I thank the universe, yet again, that I sleep like the dead. If I ever lose that, I may just do myself in.

8.05am. I make coffee.

8.10am. Bruno was up.

8.15am. I make vegemite toast.

Am I surprised Pete Doherty is still alive? No, he’s too smart to die’: the Libertines on feuds, friendship – and their unlikely sober reunion.

9am. I start watching YouTube car show, Coldwarmotors.

Sam cleans. I let him. He does the vacuuming that I usually do. I don’t get up and offer, oh, I don’t know why? I wasn’t in the mood. Is that terrible, I guess it is.

I have a shower. 

We leave for [rental property] to work on the window covering for the second bedroom, yet again. 

Mid morning. We arrive at the parking in Brunswick, I think it’s Jones Park. The cricketers are playing all in red, all the car spots are taken. Grrrr.

And then I see, the park is full of parents and their kids, lots of them, another reason to be thankful to be gay. (Of course, gay people have kids, but you know what I mean) What is this, a collective birthday? Go home you people, I think, and take your little sprogs with you. I want my quiet time in the park back. 

Oh yes, I know, they are just as entitled to use the park too, so my therapist tells me. Ha ha, I don’t have therapist, but I might need one after this lot. There are so many of them it is like a fucking circus.

Their young kids are playing in the dog water dish with no sign of moving away to let the dogs drink, so I just let Bruno and Otto go for a drink and it is astonishing how quickly the parents materialise to move their kids.

11.20am. Bruno, Otto and I are parked in Coburg Woolies car park while Sam gets sandwiches and drink.

I message Mark in Northern Rivers and say to him that I bet he is jealous of me being in Woollies car park on a sunny day.

Green with envy, he replies.

I chat to Mark constantly, he is my favourite person in the world, after all.

Not long after, we’re at the rental eating sushi. And drinking orange juice with passionfruit.

The white curtains we got from Jill yesterday are too long and no good, so Sam calls Spotlight to enquire about getting a new venetian blind made to measure? Apparently, they can cut the larger blinds down to size for a price, of course, but Sam has to order them online.

"I want oak Venetian blinds..."

"Yes, order them online." No phone orders, apparently. Sam would later find it difficult to find the oak Venetians to be cut down to size online.

I dust the existing venetian blinds. I start the cleaning process. Everything is now done.

The house over the road has put out stuff on the nature strip which looks clearly like a hard rubbish collection so, as bold as you like, in broad day light, Sam takes the remaining hard rubbish we have, some old lights, an old wall heater, a broken chair, and a bag of rubbish that his body corporate decided that [ex-tenant] and [ex-tenant] had left behind in the garden, which they hadn’t, so Sam was now responsible for its disposal.

We load some blankets and sheets and towels, and some material we could possibly use as a couch cover, up in the car.

1.30pm. We leave [name] Street. I laugh to myself that that is the day done. We’re not the type of home renovators who believe in over work.

1.35pm. A big, young wog boy in baggy black basketball shorts and a red jersey almost minces down Bell Street (that's the reason I noticed him) and across the lights at Pentridge Boulevard at which we were waiting. He gave me a look, a scowl, if you like, as he saw me looking at him walking towards us. He has great legs.

We go to St Vincent’s Abbotsford and drop off a bag of, er, donations the blankets and sheets and towels.

2:09pm we are home.

We lay on the couch and watched screens for the afternoon.

Otto vomited twice, not really sure why? He climbed up on the ottoman just for the occasion. Was he too hot? I don’t know. Sam cleaned up after the vomit, I swept the back yard while I looked after Otto while Sam cleaned up.

We ate cream pasta for dinner.

We watch the news and The Project, after which Sam goes off to have a shower and I turn the TV off and try to write my journal and some blog posts.

We watched 60 Minute – MH370, Alex Batty, Andre Agassi

9.30pm. Bruno and Sam went to bed.

I cleaned the dishes and watched another car YouTuber, Mortske, and his 1965 Buick Riviera.

10.15pm. Otto and I went to bed.

I have to get up early, after all. Monday morning in the office.

And that's the weekend done.