Deep Heat

We ran out of Voltaren cream, so Sam went and bought Deep Heat.

Sam is fine, no permanent damge. There is just some moaning and groaning and swearing to a god neither of us believe in, when he gets up, straightens up, or stands up, but it seems to be getting better each time. So, we're not claiming disability, or destined to live on a widow's pension, just yet.

But Deep Heat? I hate Deep Heat. I hate the smell of it on my hands when I have to rub it on his back. You just can't get that smell off your skin with one wash. I hate the smell of it lingering in the air making the whole place smell like a sports change room.

Funny, because it takes me back to my time as a kid when I used to go with my dad to cricket on Saturdays. I used to sit on the sidelines and score in the big green book.

I used to go back with him to the club rooms afterwards when all the players from the three Bentleigh teams used to meet back at home base to celebrate, or commiserate, and drink beer and shower and get changed before the women came to the club rooms, usually with food to feed their men.

There was me, young, gay, son sitting in the middle of it all those men in those club rooms smelling of Deep Heat and liniment and sweat,  drinking beer and showering and walking around in the nude, uninhibited, dressed only in their undies, laughing and pissing about. It used to cause a bit of deep heat in me, let me tell you, when I got home that night. The Love brothers. Jimmy Glass. Pete Robby. Jeremy Laird.

You'd think I'd like the smell of Deep Heat, because of that. Transported back there into that world of men once again on the memory of a scent. An olfactory turn on. In the budding-gay Tardis of smells.

You'd think? But I don't. I hate it. The stuff stinks.

Sam Crashes To The Ground

We were taking the dogs for a walk, in the afternoon, I guess it was around 4pm, that sort of thing. I was faffing about being the last person to leave the house, as is my want. Oh, I don't know why? I guess I am just the more relaxed one of us two.

To be fair, Sam usually just announces its time for a walk and then he puts his shoes on and heads straight out the front door to wait. Strait to it. Usually, Brun, and possibly Otto, will wait out the front with him, although Otto, more often than not, will wait inside the house in the hallway as he has a want to be the last to leave the house.

So, I headed out the front last thing and Sam is sitting on the ground.

“Why are you sitting on the path?”

“Help me up will you?”

“But why are you down there?”

“Just help me up.”

“Help you up, old man, what are you talking about?”

“Give me your hand.”

“Okay. What’s going on?”

“Oh, ah, shit.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Otto knocked me over.”

“Otto did what? How?”

“Otto was in the hallway, he saw a dog walk past the gate, he ran to the gate knocking me off my feet as he went.”

“Otto did?”

“Oh, my back. Oh. Ah!” Sam got to his feet. He looked at me.

“What happened?”

“I was standing on the front step looking at my phone one minute, the next minute I crashed down on the step, my back hit on the step.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is your back okay?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know.”

He had the shell-shocked look on his face of someone who has gone through something they haven’t quite worked out.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

Sam shuffled off inside without looking back.

“I bought those anti-inflammatories this morning, take two.”

“Okay.”

“You have to take them with food, apparently.”

“Okay.”

I picked up the dog leads and took them for a walk.

As I walked the dogs, I wondered if I should have stayed with Sam longer. You know, was he okay? Was he damaged worse than we thought? Was he damaged worse than he thought? What if he had broken vertebrae? Cracked one? Chipped one? Imaging if he was permanently damaged? Those things happen to people all the time. People get permanent injuries from the simplest of mishaps. It happenes every day.

I text him. You oaky?

Annoyingly, I got back, I don’t know, again.

I kept walking with the dogs.

I text him again. Do you need to go to hospital? If you do, we can go when I get back? Or I can come back now?

I don’t know, he replied.

Thinking about it later, he was a bit in shock, I guess. I started to hurry the dogs along so we could get hime again. If anyone knows anything about bulldogs, you can't hurry them along.

I got back and Sam was on the couch with a blanket over him. He was asleep. (not so unusual for Sam, he has the ability to just drop off to sleep in an instant) I stood there and watched his chest go up and down just to check he was still breathing. Okay, I can be dramatic too.

He eventually woke up. He wanted me to put cream on his back. He said he couldn’t roll over. I helped him as best I could. He called out in pain as I rolled him. I rubbed Voltaren cream into his back.

He wanted his track pants. I had to pull his jeans off and dress him in his track pants. None of this alleviated my concern about him.

Luckily, we had leftover pasta in the fridge, which I could just microwave for dinner.

Sam said he fell onto the front step backwards, but he fell kind of on his back, but more on his side, and not flat on his spine, which I am thinking is lucky.

We called David who was medically trained at uni in his previous life, and asked questions, he said as long as his not getting sharp stabbing pain, he should be okay. 

“Keep taking anti-inflammatories. Tell me the name of what you have?”

We told him what we had.

“Take a couple of Panadol’s as well for the pain.”

"Okay," said Sam.

"You have to treat the inflammation straight way," said David.

Sam complained every time he had to move after that, but he said he could move fine, and it felt like everything was working properly, just painfully. 

I think he's okay.

He started bossing me around, which I take as a good sign, back to normal.

The State of the World

 

Doing Errands

My day off, where I would lie on the couch and watch endless YouTube left to my own devices, it is true. I mean, where else are days off for? I ask you?

So, Sam is sending me on errands.

"There are things that have to be done."

So, I am off to the petshop to get fish food and dog treats.

"It's free public transport," says Sam. "So, you can catch the tram."

Sam doesn't know any better, as he doesn't drive, but the tram stops right outside the pet shop, so it seems like a good idea. And, I like tram travel. It's relaxing. There is something nice about doing it in the day when you have all the time in the world. And it's good for the environment.

There are also a number of opshops and specialty record shops on the way, so it all sounds like a pretty good idea.

There is also the kitchen tap on the list. It has seized up and no longer swivels, easily, without it moving at the base, which will only lead to leaks in the end. We got it from IKEA and Sam worked out it has a 10 year warranty, so that has to go back, but possibly not today, considering the work that has to go into detaching it from the sink and water mains etc. That could be a job for tomorrow.

"And when you get back you can sweep the back yard," says Sam.

Er? Um? we'll see about that.

So, I'm off, out into the day.

Now, are my headphones charged? Best I check. I can't have the people I might meet out there encroaching on my bliss.

I shopped at numerous shops, second hand record/DVD shop and opshops and food shops. I bought a couple of old DVDs. I found myself standing next to my cute as hell next door neighbour, Tommy, in a Northcote bakery. I got on and off trams. I walked up the last bit of High Street to the pet shop, rather than catch a tram. I looked for a not-seen-lately friend’s hair salon, but it has gone. I wondered if that was happy for Con? Possibly not. I bought the dog treats and the fish food at the pet shop, which was my main aim. I stopped and took photos of wall art and graffiti. The sun shone. I walked the last few blocks home.

There is so much freedom to be felt being out and about on a sunny day, especially without a car and places to park to worry about, and a tram network to jump on and off. I don't think we realise how, quite so much.

Flu Shot

Flu shot 9.30am. Flu shot 9.30am. Flu shot 9.30am. Mustn’t forget. Flu shot 9.30am.

7:45am. I make Vegemite toast. Sam makes coffee.

What time do I have to leave? It has to be goldilocks time, as I want to get there right on 9.30am, so I can get in and get out without anyone knowing I was there. That is the aim.

Oh, you know, if I can get into the office willingly to have a fly shot, I can get into the office to work. That is my thinking about the sneaking about, rightly, or wrongly. The last few years of getting flu shots through work I have pulled off the stealthy in and out.

Of course, the meeting rooms where the flu shots are held are just outside my department’s doors, in fact between my department and the kitchen. Difficult, you might say? I have managed a stealthy like operation every year up until this year. So, I don’t see why this year should be any different.

I do some mental arithmetic to work out my times.

8:20am. I have a shower.

8:47am. I leave for the city.

The sun is shining. It’s a lovely day.

It’s noisy from some big truck digging out a drain, or something, as soon as I get walking.

I’m listening to Allan Alanis Morissette Under Rugged Swept. I’m still not sure that I even like her. I bet you lesbians like her.

I walk to St Vincent’s Plaza.

I catch a pretty 109 at 8:50am.

I’m sweating from that short walk up Brunswick Street, and of course that tram is heated and now I’m sweating as Alanis sings on. In fact, I think I might get off at Spring Street, or 101 Collins Street, just to get some fresh air. I am going to be early, at this rate. I might as well spend the extra time walking rather than hanging around my building. Maybe, I’ll try to get back on an old tram, as they tend to be draftier.

Swanston Street I get off.

If I’ll be too early, I might as well walk and get some exercise.

Boris called, as I cross Elizabeth Street, grrrr! It was noisy as we chatted. We’re having issues with the change over from company based storage to cloud based storage. She eventually said call her back when I can, so I felt I had to tell her I’d be in the office soon, so I’d come and see her when I get there. So much for a stealthy flu shot recognisance. Er? You know what I mean.

9:15am. I’m in the lift.

Some chick gets in after me holding the left up. I feel my fists screw into balls. Oh, I still have lift rage from all the years spend in skyscraper buildings, with idiots and lifts. Good to know.

Three guys get in really late, one holds the door open for someone else, OH MY GOD, my head says, but I can’t complain because of how cute he is. My favourite look, dark hair, bright eyes and smiley and full of confidence. And a very nice beefy toosh in his blue suit pants. I forget about everything as I gaze upon his arse handsome face, true.

Shake of the head as the lift opens on my floor.

I go see Boris, but she’s not in her office.

I head to the flu shot room, 9.20am. I guess it doesn’t matter now if I wait around. I see Boris and The PonyTail coming out of the kitchen. Oh, I always get a slight chill when I see The PonyTail, and now in a good way. She asks me if I’m having a flu shot, not exactly sure why.

I get my flu shot straight away. No one is waiting, like previous years. They say vaccination rates are down, I wonder if I am seeing it first hand? The flu shot giver seems pleased that I am there, as if business has been slow.

“Sign here,” she says.

I see The PonyTail is the previous person to me to get the jab.

Have I had flu shots before.

Yes.

Am I allergic to…

No.

All the usual questions.

Do I prefer either arm.

No.

Then there is a short, sharp prick. Like some unfortunate boys I have known in the past.

I go chat to Boris. Where trying to sort out this new cloud based storage drive. The instructions have been poor, the training no so much better. Everyone seems to be struggling. But, you know, there is one thing Boris is good at, problem solving. She’s tenacious. Me? Not so much, because I just don’t give a shit. Good that one of us is.

She’s really pissed off at Chip Swell yelling at her when she was floundering and asked for help with this file drive change over.

She tells me that not so long ago there were some old historical journal entries which she wanted to sort out, and she asked The Midget for some details on them and The Midget screamed at her too.

She rolled her eyes and said, “You can scream all you like, but after you have stopped screaming, there is still going to be a problem with which I need some help.”

“Are they under stress?”

“Maybe they are, well, Chip Swell was overseeing our departments training and drive change over, and maybe they are not, but it’s just not good enough, being screamed at.”

I got the impression that, maybe, Boris wasn’t going to put up with such treatment going forward.

We looked at Boris’s computer set up, as she has the new drives up and running.

“I should have bought my laptop with me.”

“Oh, well, we’ll get it sorted, we have to now.”

“The deadline was shift from April 30th, I think until May 15th.”

“Oh, was it,” she said. “I didn’t see that email.”

“Yeah, we have a couple of more weeks.”

“Is that why the panic seems to have died down out there,” she said. She indicted to the open plane department beyond her office.

9:40am. I’m walking home. The sun is shining. I’m feeling really relaxed. You know that feeling when you are out in the fresh air on a gorgeous sunny day and you aren’t hurried to do anything beyond just walk in it and enjoy it? You know that feeling? Sauntering along in the sunshine, not a care.

9:44am. I walk to Elizabeth Street and get on a number 11 when it comes along. I should keep walking but with free public transport I am enjoying claiming my home tram stop of Brunswick Street and Gertrude Street off the number 11 tram.

9:56am. I’m at St Vincent Plaza and the sun is shining in the tram windows beautifully.

9:58am. I get off the tram at my tram stop. Lovely, isn’t it, I think. Home again.

I run across Brunswick Street in front of the tram, actually two, one coming from each direction, in the sun.

I buy a muffin at the bakery.

10.05am. I am home.

Boris calls me. We get onto teams. I share my screen. 

“If you just go to the drive teams.”

“Okay.”

“Click on that file.”

“Okay.”

“And that file.”

“Okay.”

“I think you just have to setup a second short cut.”

“There are two shortcuts to be setup?”

“Yes, I know, noting in the training mentions a second short cut.”

“Okay. Done.”

“Now go to your computer drive.”

“Okay.”

“There. Yay!” says Boris. “It’s loading.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“It’s just good to get it sorted.”

“We have a meeting with The Midget about the US office,” I say.

“Oh yes,” says Boris. “I’m not sure what she wants now, really I am not.”

I swapped over files, now that my new cloud based drive worked. Really, just in time for the April 30th deadline, even if it has been extended for two weeks. It's still kind of good that we got it done in the original time frame, don't you think?

I was behind all day. I was behind at the end of the day. It appears that taking a sick day Monday has had an effect. Who'd have thought?

Nyr! So, what? Who cares? I’ll catch up Monday. I’ll worry about it then.

Fuck it.

Sick Day

I took the day off, a real sickie, Boris hoped I would feel better soon.

Oh, it wasn't a complete lie, I have continuing shoulder pain, but not really enough to stop me working.

You know, I have a mountain of sick leave accrued, I think I might take it. What can they do? Nothing.

As soon as Sam left for the office, I headed to the bakery to get a muffin to have with my second cup of coffee. But, being Monday, the bakery was closed. I stood on the corner of my street with disappointment washing over me.

I bought a 1 terabyte hard drive from Fitzroy Officeworks. I wished I'd bought the 2 terabyte version. I wanted to return it, but I lost the receipt. Stupid me, I never lose receipts. So, I had a go at returning it without a receipt, but the fat, blond slag on the counter with poor teeth was having none of it.

"Not without a receipt."

"But, it's not like I want my money back," I said. "I actually want to pay you more money."

"See if you can find a bank statement showing the purchase?"

I, actually, had an idea I paid cash for it? Anyway, I couldn't say anything, I lost the receipt like a doof. I'll just never shop there again. Ha, ha, ha. Chuckle.

I went to the Salvos to see what CDs they had for $1. While I was looking, one of lifes losers turns up pushed in next to me. He came in under my arm there was so little room, and I, according to him, elbowed him in the head. I believed my elbow touched his head. He complained. I had headphones in so, mercifully, I couldn't really hear him. The next thing he was pushing into me on my other side.

"Move over," he said. "I want to look at these disks."

I switched off my music. "Huh?"

"Move over and look at those ones over there, I wanna look at these.'

"I'll be finished looking in a minute, mate."

"Oh, yes, everyone has to work around you, I see."

"What?" He tried to stare me down with his rat face. "I was here first, hang on a minute."

"Oh yes, you always think you are first, probably. I know your kind."

I turned the music up and pretended he wasn't there at all.

He said more, but I couldn't hear him. Then he vanished. His type don't want to look at the produce, they just want a distraction from their miserable lives.

I spent $10 on 10 CDs. BB King, Pete Murray, Alanis Morissette, M People, Cafe del Mar, Neil Diamond Hot August Night, Van Morrison and Diana Krall.

I bought a cinnamon scroll on the way home, from Falco. I made more coffee when I got home. 

I watched two movies, a straight movie Lie With Me, and a gay Acrobat, as I uploaded my new CDs to iTunes.

The two dogs slept at my feet all day.

I wrote my journal.

Sam got home 5pm and we took the woofs for a walk.

The Warming Planet