Wednesday All Day

9am

Ah, hump day. What can you say?

I'm at my work desk, at home, not in the office. I have on bulldog slippers, well, the living variety. One bulldog lies on one foot, the other bulldog lies on the other foot.

I don't really have anything much to do, it's all done, what can I say?

Sam's upstairs at his desk.

Charlie is still in bed. You can guess what a 20 year old boy is doing in bed. Oh, is that just me? What? Nobody else thinks such things? Really? 

I don't really think them about Charlie, to be honest, just when I am trying to think of something funny to fill up my blog post.

It is a very quiet morning?

Yesterday, the fridge man came and fixed the fridge. We couldn't remember when we bought it. He said we bought it in 2020. A $2 sensor failed and the system failed to defrost and it got iced up with ice.

The roof guy came yesterday also to give a quote on my leaking kitchen roof. He bought his two sons with him who do all the work. Both handsome boys, I won't mind them working around here. Let's hope it is hot when they are here working.

11.30am

I have been having connection issues all morning, which have been driving me nuts.

Then I decided I would just head out and pay my dog registrations before I forget. They are due today. Now, already I am pissed off with this, as Yarra City Council charges me $450 to register two dogs. That is a $450 dog tax imposed on me by The Yarra City Council, for absolutely no reason at all. They do nothing. I was really tempted to say the dogs had moved out of the district.

Anyway, be that as it may, I decide to ride my bike, that way I don't need to worry about parking, easy as.

Half way there my chain comes off the hub and jams between the hub of the wheel and the rear spoke end fork thingie.

Grrrrrrr!

So I have to push it to the Collingwood town hall. $450 fucken dollars later I am starting to push my bike towards the bike shop in Abbotsford, but before I turned left off Hoddle Street, I realise it is as far to the bike shop in Collingwood, and at least that was in the direction of home.

So, off I go, to Collingwood bike shop.

Half way to the bike shop there is a cafe and I think if I get a muffin I won't notice the time it takes to push my bike to the bike shop, I'll be distracted by filling my fat fucken face.

So they have blueberry and crumble muffins.

"That will be $4.50, thanks," says the chick behind the counter as she puts the muffin in a bag.

I pull out a $10 note to pay.

"Oh no, we don't take cash," she says.

Oh no, we don't take cash, Oh no, we don't take cash, repeats in my head.

This is one of my pet hates. If you run a business, give good service, not half arsed fucken service to your customers. I was so close to telling her to shove it up her arse, you miserable rat-faced slag. I wish I'd said it, but I stopped myself.

"No, I don't want it," I say. I stomp off. 

I really wanted the white chocolate and rhubarb muffin from Baketico, in Gertrude Street, which are better than sex, and they take cash, but my bike chain broke and I couldn't get there easily, so I was settling for this slappers blueberry muffin and then to be denied. Grrrrr! Fuck off!

I get to the bike shop. A very pretty blond guy served me, and my bike was fixed in minutes.

I get home again and, of course, I am having connection issues yet a fucken again. Why hasn't this been fixed already, I think to myself?

"Just get me someone who knows what they are doing," one of my old managers used to when asked who he wanted to speak to when making enquiries on the phone. I often think of him in times of stress. He always knew what to say.

My company is international, I have a help desk in America.

Anyway, I get the connection issues sorted out and my fucking mouse won't work. I scream out. Sam comes downstairs with that look on his face, you know, the one where he looks at me like I am a drama queen, which I seem to be getting more and more from him lately. I wonder what that means?

Anyway, I'm sweating from the bike ride, so I go and change. 

Sam comes upstairs and says, "Your mouse is working."

"What was wrong with it?"

"I don't know," he says. 

Another one of my pet hates. If something doesn't work, I always want to know why.

11.45am.

It suddenly dawns on me why I am soooooo grumpy today? I quit smoking, I'd forgotten. My system hasn't forgotten, though. Oh, no siree bob! (I just looked that saying up, apparently, it is 1848 US sl./US, colloquial) Anyway, good, I can relax, these feelings of wanting to kill someone are perfectly normal. They will persist for a few days. Any bastard who pisses me off, I will want to grab around the neck, I will want to keep squeezing until that make choking noises, I will want to squeeze until they are dead.

Don't get in my fucken way, is all I can advise.

(I will be counting to 100 before I email any of Human Remains today)