Mid Week

It was a beautiful day today, the day sparkled, it was perfect, you could feel summer approaching in the air.

It was a shame to spend it indoors.

I headed to the gym mid morning. I didn't go yesterday, just couldn't get it together.

There was an Asian guy in a shirt that said Korean Army on the back working with a trainer. 

There was a cute young guy all dressed in black with curly hair on the leg extension machine, where he did his reps then he spent ages on his phone, then he did his reps, then he spent ages on his phone. I think he was on the leg extension machine the whole time I was working out.

There was a very handsome guy in a white t-shirt and pale grey shorts, as clean and as spotless as you like working out quite strenuously who never breaking a sweat. You just knew he'd smell of soap

There was a girl who came in later who worked out intensely on a mat on the floor, like her life depended on it.

I was done before midday.

Work flew by for the afternoon.

We took the dogs for a walk. The sky was one uninterrupted blue tile overhead.

We ate roast chicken for dinner.

I fell asleep on the couch for the evening.

Just a normal Wednesday.

Ha ha.

And my weekend started.

More On The Fridge

So continuing with the fridge story, they offered us $850 off a new fridge.

Sam told them he wanted the fridge replaced. He said they have tried to fix it over 6 months, and they haven't been able to and, in fact, they still don't know what is wrong with it. And under consumer law, he says we should reasonably expect a new fridge to last longer than 3 years, so they should replace it.

She has gone away to speak to her supervisor.

Sam is having one of his rare days in the office, so I sneaked over to the bakery and bought a coffee scroll, like a kid. It is as big as my head and has so much icing on it that I may not eat anything else for the rest of the day.

I think I need more coffee to wash it all down.

Monday Problems

Monday. I am at my desk. Home desk. I'm getting through everything. I started early. It's not hard. I am nearly done. Good old Monday

Our 4 year old fridge has lost temperature yet again. Actually, this started before it was 4 years old. We called up the services people for the 4th time to get it looked at yet again. The problem is that they send the same service guy and he has already said he doesn't know what is wrong with it. He's been replacing parts/sensors hoping that it will fix it. But it hasn't. And now it is warm again. I mean apart from the problem that that is, it is not safe, all our cold stuff getting continually war.

So, now we are escalating the issue. They have now given us two options, another service call, or a discount on buying a new fridge. They are calculating what kind of discount they are going to give us on buying a new fridge, so we can decide on what option to go with.

The bottom line is that we want it fixed, and if they can't fix it, we want it replaced. Consumer law covers it, the key terminology is that the fridge should last as long as it is reasonably accepted that a $1800 fridge should last. So, would you expect an $1800 fridge to reasonably last longer than 4 years. If it is yes, then the fridge should be replaced. If the answer is no, then no, it wouldn't be replaced.

So, that's Monday. The beginning of the week, with a dodgy fridge.

Sunday is For Reading

It's cold and wet outside - of course, the sun just came out when I wrote that. Naturally. What is that, Murphy's Law? Sods law? Not quite, but almost. Close enough.

It is time to curl up on the couch with Tim Winton's Eyrie and read for the day, for a few hours, at least. I'm not making too much sense of it yet, but I have really just started it.

Bruno and I are cuddled up on the couch together, under the big, pink blanket. I adjust the pillow under my left shoulder just so, and relax into the comfort I am feeling. Bruno wiggles his arse around until he is perfectly lined up to keep my left thigh warm.

But then, Sam comes in and sees Bruno as an easy target to clean his ears, just as we are settled in, and Sam grabs Bruno and squirts liquid into his ears. Both dogs hate having their ears cleaned, but bulldogs are prone to ear infections so it has to be done. Bruno resists and shakes his head and I am covered in dog ear cleaner. It's on my lips like sour detergent, or liquid ear wax, or cum. "Oh yuk!" I exclaim.

Then Otto comes running in as he must have been cornered in the other room and has had his ears swilled out too and he particularly hates it. And Bruno gets up and jumps off the couch taking the big pink blanket with him half way across the lounge room and both dogs run around the room looking for an escape passage. And I am left on my own, now kind of cold, exposed, with incredibly sour lips wondering what to do, trying to wipe the noxious liquid from my lips with the back of my hand.

A Day At The Golf Course

We went to the old Olinda golf course for the day, well, morning. It is now one great big off lead dog park, very cool. Except, at the front where someone clearly insisted that the dog walkers couldn't have it all to themselves and they put in a kids playground, more recently. However, it really is a great place to walk your dogs. 

And the bulldogs loved it. The sun shone for the time we were there, the rain held off despite the rain clouds in the sky. Otto was off his lead for the first time and he made a splendid job of it.

We had a lovely time. It is so lovely, and picturesque. And a great walk, up and down steep hills, good for the legs.

Afterwards we ate lunch in the hills, in Sassafras, beef cheeks and a Ruben Sandwich and coffee, of course. They had cake, I wanted cake, but we didn't end up having cake. The rain fell, but we had huge umbrellas over us and if anything, it was quite nice, dare I say romantic, not exactly, but it had that feel to it. You know, almost cocooned from the effects of the rain falling all around, out in plain sight, in it, not a care.

The Exorcist of God

I fell asleep on the couch, after dinner. I've been falling asleep on the couch every night lately, not really sure why? I've been waking up at 5am, maybe it is that?

I woke up to Sam watching The Exorcist of God and some priest getting strangled by a demonic Jesus. "Oh!" What a way to wake up. I was expecting Gardening Australia. Why do people watch such bullshit, I ask you? I guess, I asked myself.

Then I am half awake and Sam is asking me questions? Remember, Sam was raised a Buddhist. Why do they call priests father? Do nuns always pray to Mary? What is the holy spirit?

"What? Um? Oh? I don't know?" Wiping sleep from my eyes. Father of their flock, I guess. Praying to Mary is a Catholic thing. Who knows what nuns do? The spirit is a part of the holy Trinity.

Then I googled it. The Exorcist of God, not Sam's questions.  

If you are a fan of horror, if you like to be scared, if you like earned jump scares, this is for you. The acting is really really good, the special effects are also well done.

It just seemed like your standard issue god botherer stuff, to me. It just seemed as stupid as religion itself, I thought. All the same old tropes, again, like religion itself. I can't take exorcist shows anymore seriously than I do religion itself. It's all bad fiction. Still each to his own, just like religion.

I wrote my journal, then I wrote my blog.

Oh God! (pun intended) it went on and on and on, heads spinning, green vomit, deals with the devil, the works. It was like a bad zombie movie in the end.

A Glorious Morning

I took the dogs for a walk early. It was an absolutely glorious morning, so gorgeous for a walk. The sun shone, the sky was one unblemished blue tile overhead, and a gentle breeze blew. There was that lightness that you feel on a perfect day. Fresh.

We were just about home, when the old chick from down the street, who I’ve never had a great relationship with, came out of her gate as we walk past. She looked really old, like really old, like she has moved into the death spiral, and she smiled and said something about the Bulldogs being beauties, which is so different to the crosswords she and I have exchanged previously. 

She never liked the fact that Buddy walked off-lead around her two poodles, and she wasn’t backward in telling me. I have been know to tell her to pull her head in.

I've always called her the old bitch. I've avoided looking at her, as you know what they say happens when you look directly at Satan. But today I looked her in the eye and all I saw was sweetness and light. It was kind of nice, if I was truthful.

In fact, she looked so different, I wonder if she is the old chick’s sister, or friend, who is staying with her.

I came home and sat for an hour and wrote a couple blog posts, I had to catch up a couple of days. I headed off to the gym for my workout. I hope I didn't pull a muscle in my groin on the dreaded leg press, I guess I will find out in the next day, or so. Isn't that how those things go?

I'm now contemplating heading into the city to have that haircut that I missed out on, on Sunday.

The afternoon is mine, I can do what I like, I have no real plans.

Who Messes Up The Dishwasher

Oh yes, I am the kitchen nazi. Well, it is my designated role, since Sam cooks. I never complain about having to clean because no matter how much disarray the kitchen is in, it never normally takes me any longer than 15 minutes, or thereabouts, to clean it up. And that is a premium result over having to shop and cook for everyone, me, Sam and Charlie.

We also have what has turned into a permanent house guest in Toby, who just came to stay during his divorce and ever since he seems to have forgotten to leave. He cooks and cleans for himself, though.

Anyway, back to the kitchen and my nazi status, I like things done the way I like them done.

I'll have none of this combined scourer and sponge nonsense, it is just unnatural, scourers and sponges are not meant to be joined, it's just ridiculous. Separate sponges and scourers please. I mean, they have different functions, scourers are meant to be used on dishes, while sponges are meant to wipe down benches, or wipe up spills, and the like.

Oh yes, I am the dishwasher nazi too. I decry the world when I see the big bowls put inside the small bowls, or the plates put in with the bowls, or the upper basket mixed up with the lower basket wilfully, do you people have no sense at all? I am often heard to mumble something about the world is full of idiots when I am at the dishwasher loading dirty dishes.

Toby for the longest time washed all the dishes he uses by hand, which seemed weird when we have a dishwasher. I suspect Sam said something to him after I said something to Sam. I was only making comment, I wasn't making suggestions for Toby to use the dishwasher, just that it was odd. As Charlie certainly doesn't know what the dishwasher is, and Sam never puts anything in it as he cooks and I really think he thinks he shouldn't have to, with which I don't disagree, so that only leaves one person who fucks up the order of the dishwasher, Toby. 

And Sam said that I couldn't ask him to leave because he messes up the dishwasher, he said that isn't a reason to ask someone to leave.

"So, when is he leaving?" (I don't care, honestly) I asked.

"Yes, well, who knows," said Sam.

"What did we say at the beginning?" I asked.

"We said, Oh you poor thing, that is terrible that Brad cheated on you, and with so many other guys, come and stay at our place if you need to get out of there."

He must have gone straight home and packed his bags straight away, turning up at our door that night.

"We didn't say for how long, did we?" I asked Sam.

"No, we didn't."

"So, how long do you think he is staying?"

"I don't know," said Sam. "Ask him?"

"You ask him," I said.

"You ask him," said Sam.

"Don't you think it should be something he should be asking us?" I said.

"Do you want him to leave?" asked Sam.

"No, not particularly," I said.

"Well, there you go," said Sam.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Sam shrugged. "Whatever you want it to mean."

"Huh?"

Sam just gazed back at me without answering.

In The Gym

I went to the gym this morning, mid morning. I did my workout in a little over an hour, it was good. 2nd session on my own.

There was a muscle guy in a black sleeveless t-shirt and black shorts that were so tight I have no idea how he got them on. You know, he was well built, and it was worth showing it all off, and all, but I suspect he could have done himself an injury getting those shorts on, if he wasn't careful.

There was a girl there who was grunting with every movement she made the sound of which was so primal I suspect it's what she'd sound like when she was home with her big boof of a boyfriend, Brad, after a bottle, or two, of dry white wine.

There was what I'd call everyone's accountant, with his ever so slightly receding curly hair, his square metal rimmed glasses, pale skin, a cream far too big singlet that matched the hue of his skin, with great guns.

There was an old, bean pole of a lurch type, with a constantly pained look on his face, pale flakey skin and pale red hair, who seemed to be unnaturally hairy all over, who I realised, when he walked past me near the end, that he wasn't old at all, most likely, he was just one of those people who always looked kind of old. Poor sap.

I remembered to wear shorts myself, which was good, so I wasn't sweating in track pants for most of the session.

It was raining when I came out, which was kind of nice really, for the short walk home. It was fresh, and I didn't have enough time to get cold.

Then it was back to work.