Out In The Garden Sunday

2am. Sam apparently took Brun outside for diarrhoea. There has been a lot of wind and noise and disgusting things coming out his bum end over the last few days. I'm not really sure what's wrong with him.

I slept through that, of course.

6.20am. I got up and it was light. Daylight savings must have happened, I think.

I make coffee.

Milo comes and lies next to me, cuddles up, while the bulldog bullies aren't around to bully him.

I watch some Karen videos. I’m a bit obsessed with the gobsmacking self interest of Karen videos at present. People! Seriously. There must be something about conflict that attracts us. Is it in our DNA, do you think? Or is it a bi-product of conservative politicians and commentators using conflict to gain power in the world?

I watch Coldwarmotors, my favourite YouTube car show.

6.55am. Charlie was up, early for him. I ask him why, but of course, he just mumbles some sort of answer.

I watch DailyDrivenDeathTraps. The two sexy guys Sean and Alex buy a HiAce Chinook. I reckon there is no way that Alex isn’t the bottom. Ha ha, you can dream. Either way, I’d like to see that. Those boys arses are works of art.

9.30am. Sam and Otto were up.

I make vegemite toast and coffee.

10.30am. I make more coffee and eat the last of the expensive disappointing bakery hot cross buns. Sam won’t touch them, but then I am the ‘bakery’ guy.

I do the vacuuming. It is Sunday, after all. Cleaning day.

11am. I start gardening in the back yard. I re-arrange and re-pot the pot plants out the back.  I have been going to do this for, well, months really.

I repot the huge begonia into the large empty terracotta pot, which I have been meaning to do forever, which frees up a lot of space in the back yard.

The half dead palm is finally removed from its prime position in the garden. We momentarily try the, now huge, umbrella plant, which proves to be too big over shadowing all the other plants in the rockery, so it gets repotted, and with a heavy prune it is returned to its original position in the garden. So, then it is one of the two Japanese Maples to take the palms place. I fancy the taller of the two, but Sam favours the shorter of the two, saying it fills the volume of the air over the garden better. I don’t really mind which so I go with the one Sam wanted. So, I find the one large empty pot I have left in my supply of empty pots, and I re-pot the shorted of the two Maples into it and position it in the middle of the rockery garden. Then I repot the taller of the two maples into the pot out of which I had just taken the other Maple. The shorter of the two had been re-potted most recently, so it was in a bigger pot than the bigger tree.

I manage to hide the large half dead palm in the corner of the garden.

“That will die there,” says Sam.

“I don’t care if it does,” I say.

It all looked great once I was done.

We ate stir fry veg for lunch.

2pm. I have a shower. Wash off the dirt and the sweat. I hold my eyes under the hot water as a treatment for my possibly blocked tear ducts. I think it helps.

2:30pm. We take the dogs for a walk. It’s a barmy, windy, muggy kind of day. The sky is grey, the breeze is blowing, it’s still kind of warm. We do our normal loop around the suburb.

3.13pm. Brun, Otto and I are waiting outside Woolies while Sam shops.

Me and the dogs go to Chemistwarehouse and get the eyedrops that the optometrist recommended yesterday.

There are a lot of people in Smith Street, I guess it’s just Sunday afternoon with people filling in their bored life routines, I think.

Right at that moment, a woman walks past the entrance to Woolies and says to her husband, “Where we goin’? In a real okker accent.

He says something which I didn’t hear.

She says, “I know,” as though her question had been rhetorical. She smiles as though her question was rhetorical.

Maybe, her husband asked, “In Life?” I don’t know, but that is the comment from her husband I would have guessed at to fill in the blank.

A couple of women stop and want to pat the bulldogs. “That’s Otto,” I say. 

The one with the beard and the rotten teeth, tells me about Jake and the Fat Man. How many people have stopped and told me about Jake and the Fat Man? 

“I would have called him Jake,” she said. The dog in Jake and the Fat Man was called Max, even I know that having never watch an episode.

So, I gently tell her, correct her on that matter. I can’t help myself.

She tells me Jake and the Fat Man is on channel 12 every day, and that it is repeated, I don’t know when, I stopped listening. I don’t plan to watch it. I didn’t really know which channel is channel 12?

A security guard comes out and sits with me wanting to talk about the Bulldogs. He stays and chats endlessly about all the different kinds of bull dogs until Sam re-appears.

Sam reappears at hello 3:30pm.

We see Meagan and Robyn, the lesbians from the dog park, eating ice cream at Messina, ice cream neither of them needed, let’s face it.

3:45pm. we’re home.

I got lost in a group of American boys filming people in public, exercising their first amended right of freedom of the press and how those people reacted to it. It was addictive. People lose their shit over it. Really? You got filmed, who cares people.

They asked the people if they knew the five pillars of the first amendment, which none of them knew. People, people, even I know what they were, and I really don't care.

Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of assembly, freedom of the press, and freedom to question the govt. They bang on about it all the time, but none of them knew what they were.

And I wasted the rest of the day, which is so easy to do.

We ate corn on the cobb and hamburgers for dinner.

We watched all the news programs.