Just Another Tuesday

It was just a Tuesday, what can I say. It was hotter than I expected it to be.

I worked until later than I thought I would, 4'ish.

I listened to soul singer Regina Belle for most of the day. Good singer.

Boris asked a couple of questions during the day which really made me wonder if she is, actually, keeping up?

Otto lay on the couch in the study all day next to me, snoring gently. I wanted to sleep too.

What could. I say?

Quixotic.

Accismus.

Petrichor.

Defenestration.

Tittynope?

But none of those would have helped, no. I had to keep working until the afternoon got long and, as it turned out, the hottest part of the day, then I could sleep.

Although, I didn't. I just changed computers and kept going. Well, not exactly going in the same vein, you understand, but still staring at a screen, none the less, although now lying on my back on the couch.

I re-read the news. Oh, you know, car crashes being what they are?

Nicki Minaj can say whatever she likes about the joke Trevor Noah told about Donald Trump commenting on her big arse, the entire Grammy audience cheered when Trevor Noah said she wasn't attending the Grammy's that night

Then I watched the sexy guys dancing half naked on Facebook, more often than not, their tossles jiggling about noticeably in their shorts.

I checked if the guy had responded to me saying that I wanted to engage him to convert my $100 VHS tape, but he hadn't. He still hasn't.

Brun licks my leg as I type. I like that more than I expected. 😀

Monday In The Office

I’m in the office.

I was first in 6.30'ish. First up I play Freddie singing I’m Going Slightly Mad, it seemed wholly appropriate.

I make several coffees.

I get stuck into work while the office is quiet.

I’m listening to Richard Clapton, the perfect music for being in the office.

The Big Poo comes in 7.45'ish, he asks how are his favourite dogs?

There is a new'ish Stores guy who has such a Smithton Grammar guy look about him - Rich Phillips and his cute look-a-like little brother Gabe, Russ Armstrong, Nathaniel Miller, and his 3 look-a-like big brothers, Anthony BeeGee, he also has 3 look-a-like big brothers - that I am so attracted to him. He’s really friendly too, he alway smiles so sweetly at me, and says hello, it really gets my attention.

Big exhale. The things I imagine doing to him... bent over his Stores desk. (did I say that out loud?)

HR has taken to starting all their emails with, I hope you’re well. I just want to tell them to fuck off, but that is hardly surprising, I guess.

I ate 4 chocolate chip cookies and felt sick afterwards. Stupid me.

I pissed off at 3pm. Boris says, "I'll see you next Monday?"As a question/request.

I so wanted to reply, "Oh, fuck off, will you."

Sunday

Pinch, Punch first of the month.

It’s a slow morning, kind of cold and overcast and uninviting. We sit around and wonder what we’re gonna do for the day, and all options seem un appealing.

But, of course, it’s Sunday, so we clean the house, because everybody knows that Sunday is cleaning day.

Then once that’s done, Sam says do you fancy getting a haircut. I had made some comment in the last day, or so, about my hair getting long. Sam said he wasn’t that pleased with his last haircut and he felt that the bad style hadn’t even lasted so he was keen to get his haircut.

Then we wait to kind of late morning because then we can get our haircut and then eat lunch in the city before we come home, two birds one fucking stone.

Late morning, we walked the Bulldogs into the city.

Whinny pants Sam is unhappy with the way I open the front gate, nearly letting Otto out without his lead on. 

Seriously, I say to him.

He looks at me.

The son has come out by then, (oh, I love my dictation, it gives me all sorts of visuals, I look around for someone’s son I can picture coming out) the sun has come out by then and it’s a nice walk.

Half an hour before midday, Brun, Otto and I are waiting outside Chemistwarehouse there’s some homeless guy on our normal seat so we’ve got nowhere to sit down. Of course, the bulldogs plop themselves down on the ground so that just leaves me standing. I consider going over and saying authoritatively, “Let’s move on, son.” But, I don’t.

A cute dark haired guy in stretch grey pants walks up Bourke Street towards us. He’s giving those pants a really good stretch.

I end up sitting on the ground with my back against a glass window next to the front doors. The dogs lie on either side of me like a couple of lions.

Sam is out really quickly. “Go, go, go,” he says. “Noone is waiting.”

I head in. The boy with the fire engine red hair cuts my hair. I ask him about the tattoo behind his ear.

He laughs. “It’s a robot,” he says.

“You’d never see it,” I say.

“I see it,” he says.

I don’t know how, it is right behind his ear.

“It was something I did when I was young.”

“Would you do it again,” I ask?

He laughs, but doesn’t answer.

I decide that perhaps I’d said enough at that point.

12:12pm. I’m out of the hairdresser hair done. It always feels nice to have a haircut.

We’re just walk up Bourke Street a bit and eat Thai. I have TomYum, Sam had pork noodle soup.

12:40pm. We’re heading home.

“Here grab Brun for a minute.” I drink the last of the water off our lunch table.

The sun is shining. We walk up Bourke Street. We walk through the park. We walk through East Melbourne.

We see for ourselves that the East Melbourne side of the centre, grassy median strip of Victoria Parade is manicured, while the Fitzroy side of it is neglected. It is true. 

“What the hell is Fitzroy Council doing?” we say to each other.

1pm. We stop on the cnr Gertrude Street & Brunswick Street while the pooches drinking out of the new water bowl in the recently remodelled seating area.

We stop and drink water at Bailey & Nelson, their water bowl is becoming a dog hangout, there was a black standard poodle already there. Too princess, I think.

Not all that long after 1pm, we’re home.

We do screens for the rest of the day lying on the couch. I reckon I’d done my exercise for the day, so you know, good job.

I have to say that my doctor says exercising once a day and then being inactive for the rest of the day, isn’t really that good. He says you have to keep active all day.

How long since I have been to the gym? Oh, I have lost count. Sam keeps bringing it up, but he isn’t bringing it up because of my health, he is bringing it up because of the cost.

“If you are not going, cancel the payment.”

“I’m going to go.”

“When?”

I chose to stop answering at that point.

I have to go into the office tomorrow. It has been requested of me. I have no choice. Kill me now.

Hopefully the world ends before the morning.

A Plain White Plate

I picked up a plain white plate in the street. It was just on the footpath out the front of the place over the road.

I have a mixture of plain white plates and green patterned plates in my kitchen. I kind of like an eclectic mix of crockery.

It just appeared to kind of match the white plates that I have.

So, why not, I thought. It looked lonely sitting there on its own outside one of my neighbour's houses.

I don't know, is that kind of weird? Not thinking that a plate would be lonely, no, not that, but picking it up and bringing it home? I've kind of always liked 'strays'.

I bought it home and put it straight into the dishwasher.

I imagined the other plates in the dishwasher saying, "Welcome."

"Thank you," the new plate would reply.

The other plates would be welcoming.

There wouldn't be any prejudice happening, as the plates don't know we are shirt lifters. Well, not Charlie. I guess he'd be defending his heterosexuality, at this point. Although, nothing has been proven there. For a boy of 22 he is remarkably without sex, which I think proves he is straight. Of course, we're still hoping he will bring a nice boy home some day, but, you know, whatever he wants, it's up to him, of course, if he wants to go the other way, we’ll, sure, no problem, we’d keep our disappointment to ourselves.

And, of course, they are nearly all white, after all. And they have no problem accepting green.

The other plates would give the new plate the low down on the household being fully DEI supportive, while they wait for the dishwasher to get switched on and ultimately be introduced to its new home, in the cupboard, where it would get to meet all the other plates.

Lovely Friday

I take the dogs for a walk. We went early, to notionally miss the heat of the day. There were a whole bunch of shirtless guy joggers in tiny running shorts. There were a couple of 20 something tradies in tight work shorts, the tan kind with the black leather trim, one looked like Taylor Lautner's big brother, the other had an arse given to the world by god.

And that is all I, really, plan to do today. 

I'm now editing my blog. I'm adding AI images to last year. Ha, ha, that is the first time I have done that, the year before.

I'm still thinking about what I am going to do about work? I don't want to go into the office, not even for 1 day a week. I don't like the direction Boris has taken our department since I have been on holidays.

Is it realistic to quit work and become a writer? I wish more people liked my blog(s), it would give me more confidence.

The sun is shining. It is a lovely day. A perfect 26 degrees.

What To Do?

My big boss, The Big Poo sent a message via Boris that he wants me to attend the office one day a week, namely Mondays.

I told Boris, well, here's exactly the message I sent to Boris, 

I want to work permanently from home. I think I have proved I can do it. It will make me unhappy to go into the office.

I realised later, that she won't convey my message back to The Big Poo, she told me, her job is done.

Boris has completely given into HR, anything they now want they can have, with a side note of, how fast would you like me to provide it to you.

The Midget, who seems to have been promoted to supervise us now, under The Big Poo, (not sure if it has anything to do with the Big Poo's brain tumour last year, or not?) also seems willing to do anything for anyone, no conditions, with the required response of, How high would you like me to jump.

I wonder if Boris got a bad review?

The Midget is being all hung ho because of the promotion, no doubt.

So? What to do?

The Empty Canvas

I bought a VHS tape of an old Bette Davis movie, to add to my movie collection. 

Bette Davis made a movie in Italy called The Empty Canvas. It was released as an Italian language film, but there was an English language version. I bought the DVD, but it was the Italian language version,  with subtitles, of course, and it just wasn’t the same with Bette dubbed in Italian. The English language version was never released on DVD. So, I thought, that was that. 

However, I just recently found out that the English language version was release on VHS tape. So, I just bought an English language VHS version on eBay from American for $100. So, let’s hope that doesn’t turn out to be a disaster.

You know how things turn out, I'll get into the back of my wardrobe and dig out my old VHS player and I'll dust it off, find the wires to hook it up to the teev, well, Sam will, of course, you understand, and I will slide the tape in and excitedly push play and the fuckers will all prattle away in Italian.