Last Day Of The Year

It was a bloody gorgeous day today, 26 degrees, blue sky sunshine.

The day just sparkled. Last day of the year. We're up to the middle of the decade. The middle of the 2020s, it's going so fast.

I've got a week off.

Lovely.

I want to drive to northern NSW to visit friends, but Sam isn't keen. Of course, we couldn't make it for New Year, but we could spend our break away. That's what I'd like to do with my break. Sam has been on holidays since last week. We could have a week away, but I can't talk him into it.

Oh well.

Happy New Year.

Monday

Monday.

Back to work and I don't have much to do as most people are off on their Xmas break, so not many people to bother me, send me stuff, ask me to do things, or generally do what people do. Lovely, really. Oh the people! 

So, I got up at 5.45am, oh, just because I do. I made coffee and I signed into work and I had everything I needed to do, done by 9am. All done. Wrapped it up. Time for breakfast. And coffee.

So, I didn't have an awful lot to do for the rest of the day.

I started re-writing one of my short stories. I haven't done any fiction writing for quite some time, bad me. It was hard work, too, I felt really rusty. But, I started to get it out and down in writing. As I love to say, you have to love working from home. Actually, I'm not really sure why I say that, as I can do writing in the office as well, well, kind of.

Boris asked me questions early in the afternoon, fortunately I was back at my work desk when she did and I answered quickly. Not that it would have mattered, just good none the less. Nyr. She would have waited, but I hate to have emails go unanswered for too long, don't you? Oh you know, it's not a good look. There has to be some standards. Get the fuckers answered, move on with your day, that's what I think.

3pm, I signed out of work and took the dogs for a walk. It was a warm day.

Sunny Sunday

It's a warm afternoon. I've just taken the dogs for a walk. We've just got back.

The sun shone. The sky was an unbroken blue tile overhead.

The cafes were busy, the footpaths were littered with people sitting out on it drinking and eating, you know, tourists from outside the suburb. The down side of being voted a cool suburb.

We met some nice people with a mushroom coloured oodle, who almost got a bulldog named Otto, so they felt some kind of camaraderie. 

We had to deal with a loon who "cried dog cruelty." Bruno has a habit of lying down and making himself comfortable if ever we stop walking on a dog walk, which we did when we caught up for a second time with the nice oodles owners. And when I made Bruno get up from lying down on the footpath to continue to walk the loon who had been following us cried out, "Oh don't, I beg you not to," she said. Her face screwed into visible pain. 

What are you on about, I thought?

Brun still hadn't got up, once he makes himself comfortable, and all that, so I attempted to lift him up again, and the demented one cried out again, "Oh don't, please don't, I can't watch you..."

"Hey, you deal with your dog your way, and leave me to deal with my dog my way," I replied. It is frustrating when you have a stubborn bulldog not cooperating, it is exponentially more annoying when you have the critic section making comments as you try to make the dog comply.

Of course, a crowd had kind of gathered by then, people generally find floppy bulldogs hilarious, today was no exception.

Brun still wasn't co-operating, so again I went to lift him up, and the sandwich short wailed again, this time about calling the police.

Finally I got floppy dog going, with she-who-clearly-hadn't-taken-her-meds today following us up the street until I'd finally had enough of her and I snapped, "Just take a pill, or something, will you luv."

We met up with the old chick with the slicked back straight grey hair who is always pushing a shopping jeep, no matter what time of day seemingly, who always says, "what nice dogs, what nice dogs, what nice dogs," in a broad Aussie accent with a slight whistle on the end of each word.

We said hello to the two lesbians walking their tiny teacup size poodle, Rocco, which they say they named after Madonna's son.

"I wonder if the dick is as big," I say.

Barney laughed. "Poor Rocco," she said.

I wasn't completely sure to which Rocco she was actually referring. Although, I couldn't exactly picture a son of Madonna's with... holding out my little finger. I doubt Madge would have it.

We saw the sporty Asian boy in our street who was just getting back from surfing. He's always in sports shorts, with sleeveless tops with his guns showing. He's smiley and nice. And super friendly.

Our two gay boy neighbours were out in their front garden, in the sunshine, drinking beer out of stubbies, imported, of course.

Now I am sitting back with my feet up with a coffee in one hand and a Toblerone in the other hand. And what is a Sunday without a coffee and chocolate? I ask you?

Sunday, Sunday, time to relax day. Time to clean day, according to Sam. Do what you can day, I say. I fell asleep on the couch for a few hours in the later afternoon, just to top off an already pleasant day.

But, pity it is already Sunday, too, as there is work for me tomorrow, but I think I'll cope, working from home. A couple of days back at it, then I am off until mid way through the second week January.

What Day Is It?

This has seemed like a bit of a break, these last few days. As I sit here on the couch early with Milo snuggled up to my left thigh - it's funny how delicate Milo feels when I pat him, after patting the dogs. He has little Quail bones - early, even though it has only been one extra day, Xmas Day. But, you know, I guess that is a good thing.

And it is only Saturday. 

We haven't really done much either, not really. Sometimes I wonder about the amount of lazing about we really do. I wonder if it is good for us?

We should have thrown the dogs in the car and driven to northern NSW. I wanted to. But I had to work right up until Xmas Eve.

Anyway, here's to another day of lazing about.

Is it Saturday? Where are we? Are the shops open? When are the supermarkets open? Are the bins being collected? Was that yesterday?

I haven't been to gym for a couple of weeks, I must go. I didn't want to go over the Xmas break and look like a loser who has nothing else in his life. Ha ha, do you like that? That just proves I'll use any excuse to justify me not going. Sam has even been onto me to go, or to cancel my membership.

"You know those payments are being deducted from your bank every week?"

"Yes, honey, I know how bank deductions work."

Oh, yes, but he is right, I really must go. I really intend to go and not cancel it, I've just been on Xmas holidays. Ha ha, more than I can say for work. With an end of December deadline to fulfil, the only days I get off from work for the end of year office shut down are the 6th & 7th of January. For some strange reason, the reason for I seemed to have missed, we'd going back Wednesday 8th January.

Anyway, that's a long way off, yet.

Home Maintenance

We changed all our taps, the bathroom taps and the laundry taps, that seems like a good holiday job, now doesn't it.

The bathroom taps were hard, not the actual change over, but the tight space into which I had to crawl in order to change them. No wonder plumbers are always picture with their arse out and their bum cracks showing, as you have to be a contortionist to get at them, well, I did.

I was just changing the washers in the laundry, but the cold tap had seized, so Bruno and I made a trip to Bunnings to get a new tap body and I changed it over and now it works.

It was a good thing my dad could do anything, teach at university and change taps in bathrooms, as I learned everything I know just by tagging along and watching him. Well, not to uni, but into bathrooms - that doesn't sound good - and under the bonnets of cars.

Anyway, I reckon we should all change our taps every 10 years, perhaps, as the new ones work like, um, erm, new, and it's not until you get to use a new tap that you realise how worn out your old taps really were.

Lovely.

Sage Advice, Stop And Smell The World

It was already hot by 9am, when we got home from taking the dogs for a walk early. It is expected to be a scorcher today, 41 degrees. You know, you can feel it in the air on those crisp, hot mornings, that there is more to come.

We lay around in front of the fan and did fuck all for the rest of the day, you know, as you do on a hot Boxing Day.

Screens and food was all we could really manage.

Later

It didn’t really turn out to be the scorcher as predicted. I think it got to 37 which is hot, but not really the extreme heat we thought we were going to have. Too hot for the bulldogs, but not really a danger to life on earth as we know it, which is what you’d have expected if you’d listened to the new services for the last few days.

Xmas Charcuterie Lunch

Xmas lunch. Ah, those flavours, they make the world spin with delight.

Second course is tacos noodles with a peanut sauce, with just the right amount of spice.

It's Xmas

Here I am up early Xmas morning. I've made coffee. I'm reading the news.

Not sure what we'll be doing today, I guess head first in the bathroom cabinet trying to change the cold water tap.

Sam, of course, thinks everything about Xmas is stupid. 

Some religious basis which nobody thinks about any longer, with people rushing about spending money they don't have buying presents for people who essentially don't need them, he says.

Well, yes of course, that is the very basis of Xmas, I say.

He raises his eye brows and gives me a look. (remember, he was bought up as a Buddhist and finding enlightenment where a life based on possessing things, or persons, doesn't make you happy)

Anyway, be that as it may, Happy Xmas.

7.30am. Sam and Bruno were up.

I made porridge for breakfast. I usually have grated apple and honey on the top, but I was out of pink lady apples. So, I headed into the kitchen, where Charlie has bananas. Oh, he’s into health and gym now so he has a stock of food for that purpose.

“I want to eat Charlie’s banana,” I said. I was still thinking about what I could have, and while I would have liked banana, I knew it wasn’t an option. But I did hear what I had said.

So, I kind of deliberately said. “But, I guess, Charlie wouldn’t want me to eat his banana?”

Sam looked at me. “You are talking about yellow fruit, aren’t you?” said Sam.

I laughed, as I saw a tin of peaches in the pantry. “Oh, look, I can have peaches,” I said. Charlie’s banana is safe, I thought to myself.

“Yes, you can have peaches,” said Sam. “I got them for you.”

“Goodo,” I said.

So, I had peaches and honey, mine and Sam’s drag names. 😀

9am. We took the dogs for a walk, before it got hot, it is apparently going to be hot today. All of our neighbours were out walking their dogs at 9am presumably before it got hot.

Everybody says, "Happy Xmas," today, as they see each other. Friends, neighbours, strangers. It doesn't happen any other day, that sort of friendly greeting. 

And it is quiet, in the streets, and kind of intimate, like only the real people, the people who matter, well, in the local kind of sense, are greeting you.

Xmas Eve Problem

Xmas eve our bathroom tap failed, and for a moment there it looked as though I wasn't going to be able to stop it from running with water. 

Oh, yes, of course it would. Xmas eve, that would be about right. It couldn't fail November 10th, no of course not. It had to be Xmas eve. What is that, Murphy's law.

Anyway, I messed around with the old tap and it seemed to have seized up, off, so the water stopped running and the immediate emergency was over.

We googled taps and found we could buy one not so far away, and then I talked Sam into going and getting it.

I had to work, of course I did. I have a 31st December deadline.

So, we have a new tap, and I guess that is what Sam and I will be doing Xmas Day. Yay.

Dreaming With The Dames

5am. I woke up for a wee. I closed the balcony doors right up, as it was cool enough in the bedroom. I am addicted to fresh air in bed at night, I find it easier to sleep with it, but it can be the coldest at 5am when it needs to be shut down a bit.

I’d dreamed of shopping with Judi Dench and the other dame Eileen Aitkins. I think step daughter Jane was there too. There was a group of us, actually, all out shopping.

I wanted an oven tray.  I found an enormous big square one with a handle, like a basket, and with very dull silver finish, but I took my steel wool and detergent and tried to shine it up.

I complained about the trays finish and my lack of success with cleaning it up.

Judi Dench said, “But, this is an antique shop.”

“This is an antique shop,” I questioned.

“And that is an antique,” said Eileen Aitkins.

I was trying to be subtle with my cleaning, but the shop assistant overheard our conversation and came over, and the oven tray was dripping with cleaner when she looked at it. She looked at me incredulous.

Judi Dench tried to stifle her laughter at the shop assistant’s reaction.

Eileen Aitkins tried not to laugh too. 

They couldn’t look at each other.

But, it was okay, as I cleaned the tray up with a tissue.

I decided I’d have to ask Sam, who wasn’t with us. I don't know where he was?

Then, as we tried to leave, Judi sat down in front of the fire, burning in a big leather bucket, I guess you'd call it, saying she'd be ready to go any time we were.

I think at that stage, Bruno flinched and kicked me in the ribs with his back paw’s claws, which woke me up. 

Then I needed a wee, so I got up and did that in the half dark.

I went back to bed and tried to sleep, but couldn’t.

5.15am. I got up. Oh, I'm always up early, now a days.

So, I made coffee and signed into work.

Xmas Lunch

We're off to the country for Xmas lunch at my sister's place with her, her husband and the nieces.

And the dog pack. We all bring our dogs, normally there is about 12 of them running around the farm together. they are a whole bunch of working dogs, and then the two bulldogs.

My sister said not to bring anything, but we're going to stop in at the Italian cake shop and get some cakes to take.

Anyway, I guess we need to get our shit together and go.

Saturday

6.45am. I was up. Do you know how nice it is to finally be able to fart with confidence, I think. Yay, to the doctors, I guess.

I emptied the dishwasher and made coffee. Ah, the morning, I never really considered myself a morning person, but I guess I am.

7am. Sam was up. It’s kind of early for him, if I said he was intruding on my early morning, it wouldn’t really be true, but I do like my early mornings to myself.

I look for Bob Mizer vintage images. I’d started collecting them yesterday. All those wonderful old images. You know, you start reading about Gisèle Pelicot at 7am and before you know it, you are collecting vintage photos. My morning, welcome to it.

8am. I make vegemite toast and coffee.

8.05am. Otto is up. He comes downstairs with Sam singing Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Paloma Faith.

8.07am. Bruno was up.

Of course, I watch a couple of American political YouTubers, David Pakman, Medias Touch to get warmed up for the day.

I watch Old Skool Only – It’s Ready! LC Torana Build Pt8

I watch Iron Trap Garage – Making Progress On The Custom Chop For The 1939 Mercury Coupe

8.30am. Sam feeds the dogs.

I collect Bob Mizer images for most of the morning.

Sam cleans up, the house and the pond.

Jills Birthday. I sent her a message, Happy 102 birthday.

11:27 am. I go to the supermarket to get grated cheese and butter, I’m gonna make lasagna.

A dark blond-haired boy walks out of Coles ahead of me who has the most sensational legs in a pair of black shorts. Thick, muscular and lightly hairy. I’d like to run my hand up them. Cute face, I’d like to see its reaction as my hand up his leg grabbed his nuts.

11.47am. I’m in St Marks Recycle, just to have a sniff around. Chuckle, I think I like the smell of opshops. They have nothing I want. The nice volunteer asks where the bulldogs are?

“Asleep under the coffee table when I left.”

“It’s a dog’s life,” she says.

“I went to Coles first so I couldn’t bring them with me,” I say.

I’m walking back down Smith Street. Sam has now messaged me for a second time to get long beans this time, before it was bones.

I cross Smith Street thinking I could go to Woolworths to get the beans. But, then I think, Woolies veggies are all the way at the back of the shop, where Coles vegies is at the front of the shop, so I decide to go to Coles and get the beans.

11.49. One of the brainless and unfortunate was walking in the middle of Smith Street, like yesterday when I took the dogs for a walk, there was another one, seemingly oblivious to the traffic. Why is it the down and out seem to have no traffic skills?

11:51am. I am back in Coles to get long beans for Sam. I don’t know how many, so I just grab a few handfuls and stuff them in a bag.

11.56am. I’m walking home.

Midday. I am home.

I’m listening to The Rolling Stones, Tattoo You.

I make cheese sauce.

I put the lasagne together. I made the meat sauce yesterday.

12.50pm. I’d finished making the lasagne, washed the dishes and all.

We ate instant noodles with left over fried chicken for lunch.

I’m collecting Bruce of LA images. I love old black & white photos, you know, especially modern images, or what were once modern. It helps if they are a little edgy, I kind of think an ingredient of modernism.

We take the Bulldogs for a walk. The sun is shining. The sky is blue with wispy clouds.

We turn into Nicholson Street. The sun is shining, it’s lovely and warm out of the breeze.

Douglas, the Scotty Dog, comes running down his hallway to bark at Otto and Bruno, but we passed his gate by the time he does that, so Otto didn’t get to spa with him. Otto always wants to leap about with him from the other side of the fence.

We walk through the side streets and cross over Brunswick Street. 

People in the outdoor section of the Black Cat, which was full of people, want to say hello to the bulldogs. Some woman gets them the bowl of water to drink. Another woman tries to bring the attention back to her small curly-haired dog. I am sensing competition. I’m really not sure why. She had ‘those’ eyes, you know, big and demanding. Me me, me me.

There is a wedding at St Marks, which is over and the people are all coming out of the church. The bride and groom drive away in a 1960 220S Mercedes (W111) with cans tied to the back of it. Some of those cans become detached as they drive away and are left in the middle of the street.

They have a coach waiting out the front. They seem to have two more coaches further down George Street.

One of the guests heading to their coach, or car, picked up the discarded cans and put them in one of the nearby houses’ bins.

The house just over Moor Street, which has been sold recently, had what appeared to be its new owners out the front, and consequently its front door was open and their brown Labrador came out to suss out the bulldogs. He and Otto kind of do those dog circles until the labrador’s owners took control of him and ushered him back inside.

Then we’re home.

I continue collecting Bruce of LA images.

The guy who sent me the 3 CD Rolling Stones CD messaged and asked if I received disk number one that he sent. 

Originally, he’d sent me a 3 disk collection with two dick twos and no disk one.

He then asked if I had post back to him the duplicate of disk 2. I hadn’t. I had the envelop all prepared to send, but I hadn’t actually sent it. He didn’t send me any stamps for post, like he said he would. 

So, he had my address taped on the front of his postal bag with tape, so I peeled it off and stuck it over his return address on the back. Then I wrote his address on the front and taped up the package without putting any more stamps on it.

5.15pm. I walk the bulldogs to the post box to post it. I was only taking Otto, but Bruno looked as though he wanted to come, so I took him. That was a mistake.

We got half way up to the postbox and Bruno wouldn’t walk. He lay down on the footpath.

5.23pm. I asked Sam to come and get Bruno. This was meant to be a simple trip to the post box. Grrrr!

I decided we should walk back to meet Sam coming to meet us. As soon as I said, “Come on, let’s go home,” Bruno got straight up and walked. He is just a brat.

We tried walking all of us to the post box, when Sam got there. We hadn’t gone very far, and Bruno lay down again. So, Sam took them both home, as Otto would look for Bruno if we separated them, and as soon as they started heading home, Bruno walked just fine once again when they were heading for home.

5.40am. I’m home again.

We watched the end of Deal or no Deal. It was a repeat, the one with the 98 year old gut who was trying to win money for a cruise. I’m not sure if we agreed on it being a repeat, but we both agreed we wanted to suck his handsome grandson’s dick.

We ate lasagne for dinner.

We watched Dog House.

We watched Vera. It was a repeat, we’d seen it before, although we couldn’t agree on that fact.

We turned the TV off. 

I fell asleep on the couch watching CorvetteBen and the worst. C3 Corvette he’d ever seen and bought, which he bought sight unseen off MarketPlace, or some such selling app.

10.30pm. We went to bed.

I re-watched the bits of CorvetteBen I’d slept through.

11.11pm. Lights out.

Kitchen Knife

I have a knife in my kitchen that freaks me out whenever I see it, and I never use it, it is a murder weapon, long, and pointed and tapering out to a fine point.

It gives me the creeps.

I was making Bolognese sauce, yesterday, and I pulled it out of the draw by accident and then it was in my hand, but I told myself not to be a baby, and just use it. So, I did.

I was slicing mushrooms.

Every time I look at it, I can feel it plunging into my back, over and over, or feel it piecing me between my ribs. No, it's into my back, piercing my kidneys that I feel it. I shiver in anticipation. It's like a bad horror movie.

Within moments, there I am bent over the kitchen bench, face down on the Bolognese sauce, my back peppered with multiple bleeding puncture wounds, pumping blood into the air like the United Nations fountain.

David would say that it was probably something that happened in a past life, and he never really seems to accept that I don't believe in past lives, as most of those new age spiritualist types tend to do.

"Ah." I put the knife down on the bench.

After that, I'd kept sneaking looks at it, I guess, just to make sure it was still on the bench where I left it, making sure it hadn't moved, mysteriously.

When I'd finished constructing the Bolognese sauce and had put it onto simmer for an hour, and I was washing up those things I couldn't put in the dishwasher, I washed that knife and dried it and put it away back in the draw out of sight, first.

I know, get therapy. Pfffff! Get rid of the knife, is the cheaper option. But, how do you get rid of such a weapon?

Hospital

Today is the day. Hospital, sweetie.

8.33am. I leave home for my 9.10am appointment. I walk down my street to Victoria Parade. A woman walks up the street towards me clutching what looks like a big box in her hands held out in front of her covered in geometrical print material, as if the contents were precious. Of course, I imagine cream cakes, or French pastries.

Actually, the best pastries I ever had were in Belgium, when we were crossing the border to catch a ferry back to England, and we spent all the change we had, to get rid of the currency, and it turned out we had more money than we thought, and they gave us an enormous box of pastries, and we sat them on the bonnet of my Citroen and gorged on them.

I cross Albert Street.

I’m listening to The Rolling Stones Loving Cup.

Should I wear my Hoody or not, was the question before I left? It could’ve gone either way. It’s nice and sunny and warm in the sunshine, but kind of cold in the shadows. I would’ve been good either way. I’ve been wearing shorts for such a long time recently, it is difficult to get used to jeans again. Shorts are addictive with their superior air circulation, I guess that’s it? They feel better once you’ve been wearing for a time. Free and easy. Jeans feel restrictive.

I walk through the Fitzroy Gardens.

What do these sudden health issues mean? I don’t know? Getting old, I guess. I don’t feel it, not for a minute, I don’t feel any different to how I have always felt. 

An old woman with tanned leather skin, in active wear leggings and a white top, jogs towards me, as I get to Powlett Street. She’s attempting to fight inevitability, I think. 25 years and I’ll be with her.

8.46am. I arrive for my 9.10am admission time.

The receptionist doesn’t want to take my medical referral. She points to some place off in the distance and says, “The referral is for the doctor.”

I take a seat and wait.

'Today' is on the large flat screen. A Pizza Hut is having throw back 25 year lunch deals $4.95 pizzas, which apparently have gone viral. Those in the studio have a selection of pizzas to eat, of course. I tune out to it.

8.50am. I listen to Black & Blue next, well, I have listened to Goat’s Head Soup and It’s Only Rock and Roll recently, and I’m choosing Black and Blue in anticipation of its Deluxe release, apparently in the new year. 

A woman with post-middle-aged-woman-henna-red hair arrives. She’d be 70, I'd guess.

Not long after, a 60ish year old man arrives in triple white striped black track pants.

They are both over weight.

She pulls out a novel as fat as she is.

He stares down at his phone.

She has bags she rifles through. I see she has enormous breasts that she looks like she has trouble seeing over. Imagine lugging those things around?

His is a study in stillness.

9.15am. My 9.10am admission time comes and goes.

9.27am. The nurse calls me, but I have music in my headphones. My two waiting room companions make it obvious to me I am being called. I’m ushered in behind the door.

9.46am. I’m processed by the nurse who collects me. She asks me many questions and fills out many forms in a folder. At the end of which she says, “Get changed into your hospital clothes. I’ll close the door, when you are changed, open the door again.”

9.55am. I’m in hospital clothes. Strange see-through knickers that would be more at home in a Chubby Chasers Delight video. Blue shoes and a blue hat. An open at the back gown and a towelling robe. I wonder how many people have a fetish about this getup?

10.05am. More questions from a nurse, confirming all the previous questions. Back over the information. There is one person in front of me.

The anaesthetist comes into the room. She is like a ray of sunshine, really lovely. She reminds me of Jessica Chastain. Kind of. What a wonderful bed side manner. You can’t help but instantly like her.

I’m really hungry. I can’t wait to wake up in recovery and eat the sandwiches.🥪 

I sit quietly.

I remember when the backs of my hands were unblemished.

I get out my headphones again and switch The Rolling Stones back on.

10.24am. I see my doctor. He is very charming, with cold hands. He explains the procedure to me. He’s going to go into my bowel and have a look around. 

“Any questions?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I think I get it pretty much.”

“20 minutes now,” he says. He gets up and leaves the room.

Music back on.

10.45am. A nurse arrives. “Follow me.” We head out of the room. It seems like we pass through 3 doors and we are in the theatre.

“Hop up on the bed,” she says.

The nurse puts a tube in my nose. “This is just oxygen,” she says.

Joan Armatrading is playing in the theatre as I am prepared. I think it was Someone Who Loves You. I make a comment. One of the nurses says, “Yes, it’s my favourite.”

The anaesthetist is then next to me. She is still a ray of sunshine, you feel better to have her around. “I’m going to make you comfortable now.” She puts a canula in my arm. “Roll over onto your side.” So, I do. “It won’t be very long now…”

11.45am. I’m in recovery, feeling fine. I think I am observed for a short time. After which, the nurse observing me says I am ready, I assume to nurses off in the distance chatting to each other.

They don't move immediately.

Come on people, I think, I have food to eat.

They are in no hurry to come and get me.

Ah, come on, I think. A guy could die of starvation over here. I haven't eaten for 36 hours.

I will them over, as I watch them talk about what they are going to do on the weekend, or that hot new doctor who just started recently.

Eventually, one of them saunters over. And I’m wheeled into the next room. I get food. Sandwiches. Cheese and biscuits. Apple juice. Coffee.

Sandwiches and coffee, never tasted so good. I don’t care about anything else right at this moment. I go into a carbo bliss out.

Sam has been called, I’m ready to go in half an hour.

The doctor comes in. Everything is fine. He thinks I am suffering from constipation, from the Ozempic, rather than diarrhoea. The constipation eventually leads to diarrhoea, but it is the constipation that needs to be treated. You know, that makes sense as there were days before the diarrhoea where there was just nothing back there.

Midday. I ask for more sandwiches. Oh fuck it, I have no shame. I kind of like the sandwiches

Nurses come. And nurses go.

I’ve still got a Canula in my arm.

12.04pm. The 70 year old woman from the beginning of the day is wheeled in. She seems nice, as she jokes with the nurses.

12.10pm. Sam says he is on his way.

Strangely, I fancy minced pies. You know, the bakery will still be open when we get back.

There is a 30-something Asian chick opposite me, who was in recovery before me, who is now dressed and waiting to leave. She has put on brown socks and sandals. You might want to rethink that, I think.

She has a barcode sticker affixed to her glasses, which I find annoying. Take it off your glasses, luv. Come on.

12.25pm. My doctor comes in and talks to the 70 year old, everything is fine, she had some bowel polyps which he has removed, but everything else is fine, about which she seems to have great relief. “Happy Xmas, here I come,” she says. “Excellent, thank you.”

12.30pm. Come on people, I’m ready to go now.

I find my headphones and switch on Black and Blue, Slave, thinking as soon as I do that, they’ll come and say get dressed. Which of course they do.

The nurse comes to talk to 70 year old, who I think is Denise. She may experience bleeding due to the polyps being removed. I try not to think about that.

12.36pm. I’m getting dressed.

12.40pm. Sam is getting impatient in the waiting room.

I have to go to the toilet before I leave, I assume, it’s a criteria of leaving, I guess it has something to do with the anaesthetic, getting things working. I see they say it to all the people who are leaving.

A nurse walks me out to the waiting room.

There’s my lovely Sam. Truthfully, it is probably my grumpy Sam by now, but I don’t care.

I head down in the lift with him, telling him all about what has just happened.

12:45pm. I’m out and on my way home. The sun is shining outside, it is a warm day.  Sam wants lunch before we go home. I’m feeling fine.

I had a very nice hospital experience thank you very much. I don't know what the news is on about our failing health system. I have private health insurance, does that make a difference? I guess it does make a difference?

1pm. We’re eating Japanese in Smith Street, Papirica. We have Okonomiyaki Japanese pancake and Giang Tran, eggs with mushrooms. 

1.23pm. We’re still waiting for food. Grrrrr. There is a big group in, to be fair.

Still, it is a gorgeous day, I’ve got the all clear, we don’t have much to complain about. Sam and I have nothing in life to complain about. Everything is great. Life is good.

The Japanese food was very nice, though, I'd recommend it.

1.38pm. We’re walking home in the sunshine.

We get gorgeous mince pies on the way home from Fatto A Mano, our local bakery.

1.43pm. We’re home. Otto goes nuts. “Ah, you have claws in your paws, my little cherub. Ah! Ah! Ah! But, you are such a lovely boy." I look over at Bruno, "It wouldn’t hurt you to get up.” He is lying in the sun coming in through the lounge room window and he doesn’t move a paw. “Look at the difference between the greetings of these two, will you?” I say to Sam.

I make two coffees.

Let's Have A Clean Out

Blue Eyes is out of here in 2 days. As pretty as you are, good riddance, mate. What an insipid waste of space, you really are. The head of HR, off you go. What is it they say, the fish rots from the head.

They are giving him a bloody big payout to send him on his way, not sure why? What's he done to deserve this over anyone else? I ask you? I'd like to believe it is the only way they felt they could get rid of him. The way it has been done raises questions.

And he has proven himself to be as self serving even on the way out. He has a slight tax problem, which amounts to $1000, and he is pushing for the company to pay it. This is a man on 500K a year. Me, me, me, everything for me.

I remember when I first met him, he was suddenly next to me unexpectedly, "Hi, I'm [name]" 

Oh, well, "hello," there. Goodness me. All that blond hair and those dazzling blue eyes, I'm sure they have helped get him to where he is in life, perhaps with less merit than his good looks warranted.

Speaking of rotting from the head, it's a pity he hasn't taken his side kick Fillet of Fish with him on his way out. I don't hear much from the buck-toothed, peroxide-haired cow any more, thank to Lordy do dah day, but true to form, I heard from her lately and it was all dramas and recriminations and a big fuss over absolutely fucking nothing, as it usually is. I just think she is stupid and that is the only way she can operate in the world. If she was in American, she'd be wearing a red cap and dreaming of sucking the orange one's cock.

Maybe, the HR department can become unfucked with his departure, here's hoping. The young members of it are all quite good. They just have to weed out the old dinosaurs, and Blue Eyes departure is a bloody good start. Just a couple to go, Fillet of Fish, what a nightmare, and Ponytail, not a fucking clue.

Of course, the secret to life is kindness, and I might not sound too kind here. Sure. But, you have to draw the line with people who are toxic. Besides, if I say it here, I'm less likely to say it to them. You know, while Blue Eyes is history, I may still have to deal with Fillet of Fish, and if I get it off my chest here, its so much less likely to colour my communications with her, when and should they occur. That is, if I can't avoid her altogether, which is the best strategy. Naturally. If you can avoid the shit on the footpath, your shoes will stay clean. Life is too short to be wiping shit from your shoes.

Buddy's Birthday

It is Buddy's birthday, he would have been 14. I still miss him, the big Snuffleupagus. Lovely Bud.

It's now weird to think he was my dog for 12 years, and that that is all over. I wanted another 12 years with him.

Good To See You

I don't know why I thought of this, but it suddenly came to me, at the Xmas party a number of the girls in the team said a lot about not having seen me for ages. At the time, I kind of thought it was nice, sort off, but unnecessary. I was a little taken a back, thinking I never thought they cared that much about seeing me in the office. 

Today, I am thinking they were trying to bring up why I wasn't in the office like they had to be in the office. I think they were questioning why I was working at home more than I was supposed to.

We're all now expected to spend a percentage of our time in the office, for me, working 3 days a week, I am supposed to work 1 day in the office per week, which I don't do. No, I don't.

I think I have proved I can work efficiently from home over the last 4 years keeping the SS Legal Firm afloat, so I don't see why I should go back to the office now that I have had a taste of the very excellent thing of working from home. 

I think they were questioning that?

Bitches! (Ha ha, that's human nature, I guess)

Oh, maybe they were being nice, missing me. Ha ha, no one is that nice.

There was a part of me that was kind of uncomfortable with their questioning at the time, but I just thought it was me finding it hard to take, what was effectively, a compliment, if you know what I mean, but it suddenly dawned on me recently really what that feeling was.

They weren't complimenting me, they were bitching with a smile.

I don't know how this is going to end, and frankly I don't care because, you know, life is too short to be unhappy trudging into the office when I don't want to.

I'm prepared to chuck the job in. Life is just too fucken short, I learnt that from working at the awful law firm before this one.

Delivery Boxes

 

Do you ever wonder what happens to all the boxes from all the on-line shopping now a days.

This makes me laugh.

They have hundreds of dollars' worth of toys, and they love nothing more than a good old cardboard box.

Hot Air Balloons

Heading over to the shops this early morning, I heard the kaperrr, kaperrr, to look up an see that hot air balloons were in the sky. They are so majestic against the blue sky, they always look so beautiful, big blotches of colourful wonder floating away. So beautiful, really. I love seeing them. I love the noise they make.

I'm sure it would be a beautiful way to see Melbourne, but I have a problem with heights, otherwise I'd do it in a minute. Early morning, all that stillness and calm, it would be serene, I'm sure. Gorgeous. Spectacular.

Xmas Cheer

We take the dogs through a walk. The sky is blue above our heads, the sun is shining, there’s a bit of a breeze.

Ah, Xmas celebrations are in full swing. The place is full of annoying types, clearly from elsewhere in the city, being loud and drunk.

Because our area is a destination of choice now a days, the streets are over run by obnoxious people being loud, people, people, people. Oh, so many people, who are only interested in themselves, fuck everyone else, they just don’t give a shit, and you know what, it just makes me feel that I am so not interested in them.

I mean, as a race of people. 

(Oh yes, sure, you could mount an argument for me moving somewhere else, there is that, but I have lived here for a long time, going back to when it wasn't the place those following fashion thought of as fashionable. And, you know, there is a part of me who thinks it is exciting, so deal with that contradiction, a very small part. It's just that I see a lot of behaviour that the people who are committing it wouldn't accept in their own back yard, which is irritating. I'm just being irritated, sometimes you just have to feel it)

Then wild thoughts just materialise in my brain. Why would it be so bad if the human race ceased to exist? Really. The human race is the main threat to every other species on the planet. If humans ceased to exist, every other species on the planet would have a much better chance at survival. Every other species is under threat of extinction because of us. We are the problem. (A lot of that threat is due to our over population)

And facing the existential threat that we are facing, there are as many people fighting to save us, as there are denying the problem to stop any interference to their indulgent lives. Not sure how they think that is going to end?

No other species shits in its own nest, like we do.

We are the threat to every other species on the planet. It is true. What else is true, is that the planet would be far better off without us.

(The reason I have such thoughts is not because I wish it to happen, because I don't, some of my best friends are, after all, but because I don’t think the human race is going to survive, there are too many people actively working against that survival for their own selfish reasons, so I find it easy to have these thoughts, as I think our demise is now inevitable)

Access At Rear

 

Good old Sam, always accommodating, as they say. We're not talking about my Sam, but that Sam. Yes, him. He was always good for access at the rear, with his nice smile, and curly hair and his footy shorts wearing hips and those thick thighs. His year twelve book said, the boy most likely to accommodate.

Ha ha. He takes his girlfriend to the footy on the weekends, he looks good in shorts, and a singlet and cool sun glasses, and he makes jokes and slaps the blokes on the back on the work site up Smith Street during the week.

Ha ha, well, that's what I thought when I saw this sign attached to a building site in Fitzroy. He's a guy’s guy, he always has been. Mental pictures of him dressed up, in a suit, crisp white shirt and tie, maybe at his sister’s wedding. Images of him hiking shirtless in the hills, perhaps with the ‘mate’ from school. He is clean-shaven, curly-haired, often flashing a bright, white grin, for which he is known. Smiley Sam. A six-pack from hours spent at the gym competing with the ‘other’ guys. “An endless photo shoot” running through my head.

The simplest thing, a sign on a shop window boarded up for renovations and suddenly wild thoughts are escaping. Not that I am complaining, it is good, it is interesting, don't you think? You are never alone, or bored, for that matter, if you have a fertile imagination, I've always said that. The things people have done in my head...

Ridiculous Moments

 

Don't you love this? Ridiculous moments that somehow make the world just a little more interesting than it was before that moment. Anything that makes me laugh can't be at all bad.

The road work speed limit has been set at 40 kph while the road work is in progress, but because The Yarra Council is absolutely insane, our speed limits are 30 kph.

So, while the road works is on, you are able to drive 10 kph faster than you would otherwise be allowed to do.

It has got to make you laugh.

Bellissimo

Sam made home made focaccia which was good, it was really good.

Olives, a mountain of olive oil, then prosciutto and mozzarella cheese as a filling when it was done.

It was really good.

He disappeared off into the city to pick up another set of those goggle things, I'm not sure how many he has now, or why he even needs them, but once an IT nerd, always an IT nerd, I guess, and left me home to cook the focaccia. 

"You are doing what?" I said. "I have to do what?" I said. And he disappeared out the door.

I reckon he was nervous about it and wanted me to do it. Maybe, or he just didn't care? I don't know. I contemplated which as I read the instructions he left me, and observed the oven nervously.

Anyway, it turned out fine, more than fine, Bellissimo.

The Rolling Stones

I’ve always been a big Rolling Stones fan. 

You can kind of divide the Stones music into roughly 3 periods. From the beginning early 1960s to 1967 and Their Satanic Majesties Request album. The second period is from Beggars Banquet to 1981 and the Tattoo You album, their most successful and creative period. Then the Undercover album to present day.

I've always liked the second and third period, even if I have always said they have never put out a dud album.

I never really cared for the early period, I always preferred the newer stuff, but suddenly, just lately, I have really got into the early music, so I’ve been buying early albums to fill in the missing gaps in my collection with my newly discovered passion for the early stuff. 

I bought 12 x 5 and Singles Collection, the London Years. Lovely. So, then I was lost to creating new collections for the afternoon, after that. (Love working from home)

And back when they were releasing their early stuff, in that era it wasn't customary for the singles to be included in the albums that followed. So, even if you collected the albums, you would be missing, what were essentially, the big tracks/singles.

I love electronic collections, you can add any tracks you want, in any way you want. You can build up the collections you want.

So, I have now added the Rolling Stones singles to the albums they should have been added to in the first place. Not only that, I have added the B sides to those albums as well.

And that is how you get a complete collection.

Having said they have never put out a dud album, My least favourite album is Their Satanic Majesties Request

Sunday

Sunday, we walk into the city to have haircuts. We take the dogs, of course. I don’t really need a haircut, but Sam seems keen to have one so I do too.

It is a lovely day for a walk, the sun is shining, it is warm and fresh and a joy to be out in it.

Sam has first haircut, I wait with Bruno and Otto for the second haircut. Bruno lies down and makes himself instantly comfortable, as he always does. Otto jumps up on the seat with me and observes the people passing by. He's more restless, ah the young, he doesn't settle quite so easily.

Sam is out again way quicker than I expected, so then it was my turn. There was only one guy in front of me, so my turn came around relatively quickly. Then I was done too.

I want to JBHiFi afterwards looking for a Rolling Stones live album that I just don’t seem to be able to find. They don’t have it, but they do, of course, have their latest live album, and its track listing is relatively different to their previous live albums, so I buy that.

Then we go to David’s Master Pot for lunch in Russell Street and eat a large bowl of soup, sitting out in the street under the shade of the trees is nice.

We head home after we’ve had lunch via Melbourne Central and the second JBHiFi just to check if they have the CD I really want. We run into one of those endless Middle East problem protests, I'm still not exactly sure why they are protesting in Australia? If they are really serious about protesting about the events in the Middle East, why don't they go to Gaza, or Israel to protest.

Anyway, we take a slight detour, and we go around the back way, in a sense, to get inside Melbourne Central.

They don't have the CD I want. When I come out to meet up with Sam again, Sam decides he'd head into JBHiFi to have a look, so I wait for him while he does that.

As I am waiting, a cute 20-something Irish boy walks up to me. He directs my attention to the bottom of his shirt where he pulls out the waistband of his shorts and I see his black jocks with their thick white elastic and he says his belt is too loose and he needs to get a new hole punched in his belt and I look like just the kind of person who could help him. What, I think? Immediately, I wonder if it is a scam and that an as yet unseen, by me, accomplice will be going for my wallet any second? He is adorable and, sure, I want to look down his pants, however. I direct him to the sewing shop not far inside Melbourne Central.

I'm still shaking my head when two girls stopped to pat the Bulldogs. 

A short time later, the cute Irish boy comes back. He got a new hole punched in his belt at the sewing shop, to which I directed him. He pats the dogs, and for a fleeting moment, I wonder if he is trying to pick me up, but he thanks me and heads off.

A short time after that, Sam was back.

The protest had moved on when we head for home, so we can just walk directly towards home.

We meet (neighbour) Jackson Wag just before home. "I know you can't help but have matching dogs, but the matching outfits are a bit much."

"What?"

"Look at what you are wearing?"

I look at Sam and for the first time realise, we both had on blue jeans and black t-shirts. We laugh.

Jackson says he called his pot dealer to get some 'gear' to be told his dealer has lung cancer and has shut up shop. "Dam it," says Jackson. He laughs. "Let's hope that's not a sign of what's to come for me?"

I contemplated giving him Guido's number, but didn't. Oh, I don't know, there are some things it is best to stay out of, don't you think?

Then we're home and it is feet up for the rest of the day.

What's Not To Like?

Rainy Saturday, time to lie on the couch with the dogs and YouTube and perhaps a blanket if it gets too cold, which isn’t likely in the humid weather we’ve been having lately.

Still, the day smells fresh, and the air is warm from the previous days being hot. It's nice, wet, warm, luscious, shorts and t-shirt weather despite the rain. Lovely.

What's not to like?

Do fuck all, feet up, pillow for my head, laptop on my lap, my arms draped off the side of the couch patting my dog’s tummy, my favourite kind of day.

Do nothing? It is my life’s work. Chuckle. Of course, the secret is to be perfectly content doing nothing, that is the key. There is no point being dissatisfied doing nothing, on no that would never do.

Looking After My Sister

My sister went for Xmas drinks with her work colleagues and she left her car at my place and like a good brother I am going to pick her up, in her car and she'll drive me back to my place and then she'll drive home. You know, so she's safe.

She was confident she'll want to leave around 9.30pm. It is now 9.40pm and not a word from her and I'm now getting sleepy and don't feel like driving anywhere.

But what can you do?

I just drank some coffee, hoping that will pep me up.

Sam and I just watched Silo. Now we are watching a Japanese animation artist, Hayao Miyazaki talk about making The Heron.

As it turned out, somehow my phone got switched to do not disturb, how, I have no idea, but my sis had just messaged me when I was writing that post about her not messaging me, it was just that my phone didn’t let me know.

Good thing I was pissing about on my laptop while I was watching TV and I saw the red 1 come up on my phone/message icon.

Good job.

Hot Night Sleep

Nothing I like more on a hot night than sleeping tucked up under my doona with the air conditioning on. It is good for the soul to have uninterrupted sleep every night.

I have an expression I use, “If I were Oprah, I’d have…” a Japanese chef, one that could also cook vegetarian food. And, I’d have my bedroom at a constant temperature all year round, so that I could use lush bed clothes every night of the year.

Xmas Lunch

I went to my team's Xmas lunch. It was in Glenferrie Road. I rode my bike there in the heat, a lose shirt, and the fresh breeze, the only way to travel on a hot day. Better than having to find parking when I get there, even if there was plenty of parking where we were going. I try to ride my bike whenever I can.

I sat next to our Irish temp who is just adorable, seriously adorable, that smile. Boris sat on my other side, of course. 

The three 20 something boys sat to my left, D, M & J. They were being such boys all afternoon drinking their paints of beer, laughing and messing about, it was a bit of a turn on. (When I say turn on, it made laugh more than it had any other effect) D, as I said, is simply adorable. M had on an elf’s hat in which he looked adorable and I called him elf all day, which kind of made me smile too. J is gay and isn’t a looker, nobody would say that he is, but, I guess, hanging with two straight boys that doesn’t matter.

The loud American chick, who I usually find obnoxious, sat opposite, and I found I quite liked her, so the lunch was good for the two of us, of course she wasn't to know that.

She sat with L, senior finance guy, I guess 2nd in charge of our team, who told stories all throughout lunch which were amusing. They sat with T who just lately has lost any neck definition that she once had.

I ate beer batter fish and chips. I ate Crème Brûlée for dessert. And mango ice cream, my big boss didn't want his.

I drank red wine, maybe 4 glasses. Too much. You know, I don't normally drink. I had my own bottle which I don’t think I actually finished.

Later that night at home, I wish I hadn't, drunk the wine. I remember thinking, I feel like I might like to throw up, if it would make me feel better. Well, 'like to' may not exactly be the right expression, I’m not Diana Spencer, after all.

The others were kicking on, heading off somewhere looking for margaritas so who knows where they all ended up. They asked me to go but I declined politely, I didn’t want to head out with all of them to get legless, no thanks. Lunch was enough of a commitment.

Sleeping In The Afternoon

We worked all day. I was done by mid afternoon. Sam and I had a sleep in the lounge room. Sam on the couch, me on the floor with the big orange cushion.

Such a nice way to spend a hot afternoon.

Working from home, you have to love it.

When we woke up, the cool change had blown through, and when we threw the windows open a lovely breeze blew in.

It was a great change. I think I love it the most about hot weather, the cool change.

It Was Hot

It was hot, an indication for a hot summer? Maybe? I'm not looking forward to a hot summer. But it was hot today.

30 degrees, 31 degrees when we took the dogs for a walk. It was nearly too hot for them, if it had been any hotter it would have been too hot.

Pain In My Stomach

I’ve got a pain in my stomach all morning. I’m suspicious of it being caused by quitting Ozempic, which I had to give up, maybe temporarily, because it was giving my diarrhoea? It’s been 3 days since I stopped. Well, they say it works on some stomach enzyme, so surprise, surprise.

I'm having some tests, check things out. A colonoscopy, up the arse, just to make sure there isn't a physical reason for the diarrhoea.

Then we'll review the Ozempic.

We walked to Victoria Street to do some shopping, and I felt kind of sick all the way there. There’s no point in saying anything now is there, though, just get on with it.

Still, it was a lovely day, nice for a walk. Sam did shopping, and we walked home with pork rolls for lunch.