We cleaned the house, of course we did, it is Sunday and Sunday morning is cleaning day, sam is a stickler for that.
We ate lunch out in Carlton, on the tables on the street. It wasn't so warm, but it is winter in Melbourne, what do you expect, hey.
Then it was a leisurely walk back through the Carlton Gardens then home and closing the door on the worl.
Open fire. Screens. And that was Sunday done.
We've binge watched Ride or Die.
I hurt my knee, on Thursday.
Otto and I had been on the couch all day, happy, contented, letting the day slip by unnoticed, while Sam was in the office. Sam sent a message late in the day saying get ready, he'd be home soon.
So, I got off the couch and went upstairs to change my clothes. I meant to take my wallet with me, but I forgot until I came back downstairs again and saw it still sitting on the coffee table.
"Duh!"
I snatched the wallet up off the coffee table and raced back upstairs to put it in the desk draw in our room.
Then I was coming back down the stairs two steps at a time, tra la la, as happy as you like, to get Otto ready so we were ready to go for a walk when Sam got home. It was getting late, after all, and I wanted to get the walk done.
Half way down the stairs, I landed down two steps on my left foot, and my left knee went twang, and, I think, kind of burned. I saw stars, and it took me all my energy not to just collapse down the rest of the stairs. Then I couldn't put any weight on it. I couldn't walk. It hurt. It fucken hurt. I hobbled back to the lounge room. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"
Sam got home not long after, by which time, I realised if I walked on the flat, you know, normal walking, it was okay, it was only when I went up steps, or down steps, that it really hurt and threatened to give way altogether.
So, we took Otto for a walk.
Yesterday, we took Otto for a long walk, after which Sam massaged Tiger balm into my knee, finding the sore spot, which almost sent me through the roof, a la any cartoon you have ever seen.
After that, I found I could only walk sideways, backwards and forwards motion was no longer available pain free.
It was painful right up to going to bed, which me wondering what a knee reconstruction was really like, even if I have heard some experts saying knee reconstructions were generally a waste of tme.
Today, it is significantly better, but I have taken pain killers, as advised by that pill popping prescription pill addict, David. And presently, I am feeling no pian.
It is my gym day, but I am assuming that is probably a bad idea. I, actually, want to go, you know, keep up the momentum of going 3 times a week, but I guess I have to be sensible.
I am using it as an excuse not to go into the office on Monday, which may, or may not, piss Boris off, with her training the temp who is going to do her job when she is away, in a week, or so. Whatever, it can't be helped.
"Sorry, I can't walk." Which was certainly true, yesterday.
Anyway, that's me.
In the colder weather, the block of butter won't stick to the base of the butter dish making it increasingly difficult for me to butter my toast in the morning.
That is my immediate problem for today.
There are people on planet earth who have to repeatedly pummel mud to get their drinking water for the day.
This is essentially why I believe that wealthier people/nations should pay a higher rate of tax, because through luck in circumstances, more than anything else, they were born lucky, and we should spread that luck/wealth around so people of the world have some what of a fairer life than they otherwise would have had.
If you earn good money, or enjoy good wealth, stop whining about your life.
Sam leaves for the office at 8.20am.
Otto barks at a delivery guy in the street as we say good bye to Sam at the gate.
I come back inside and take up my position on the couch with my laptop.
Otto hops up on the couch next to me and rests his head on my knee with a big sigh, as if to say, well here we are, best we get comfortable for the day.
This is going to be my day, our day.
Home alone. Well, not exactly, Charlie is home still, but he hasn't got any thing on for the day, he doesn't generally wake up until late morning/midday, staying in bed doing what all 22 year males do.
I have to get my arse to the gym at some stage, but I will, I'll get that done too.
The sun is beginning to shine outside. The birds are singing.
10.30am. I head to the gym. Avoiding the disappointment I feel in myself for not going is a great always a great motivator.
I'm working from home, it's just me and Otto. Sam is upstairs, of course. It is the last day of my working week, you have to love that.
I was up early. I signed into work at 6am. I had everything I had to do done by 9am, effectively. Just about.
And now I have had the rest of the day to myself.
Boris is busy with the temp, no doubt, cramming all she needs to know in before Boris FO OS.
You've gotta love working from home.
Truthfully, on balance, they get more hours out of me, not fewer. But, because I get up early and start really early, I can plan out my days better. It's good. The company wins, not loses.
Some days, you just get it easy. It happens in the office too, but at least at home, I don't have to pretend to be busy. I can re-write my blog freely. Ha ha.
In the afternoon, I took Otto for a walk.
My day home on my own, my preferred state of being. I don't include Sam in that, of course, but it is his day in his office. I'm good on my own. Working away... on my blog as much as the work I am employed to do.
Charlie left early for parts unknown.
I went to the gym at 8.30am, and I am pretty sure I got my workout completed before Boris even signed in, as she is not an early starter.
Since then, its been just me and Otto, sleeping soundly on the couch next to me in my study. Lovely Otto.
I'm playing a bit of Nancy Wilson, up loud. (I chuckle to myself, at the thought of Nancy Wilson's Naturally album being played at my funeral really loudly, no speeches, no speaking, everyone being directed to leave once it has finish playing, like my old mate Collin Butter's funeral, which had loud music)
I grabbed my wallet and went to the bakery and got food for lunch. A Camembert cheese and turkey roll and a banana muffin.
The key disappeared out of my wallet inexplicably in the last few days. It is somewhere in the house, as I let myself in the last time I used it, I just don't know what I did with it. As I headed out to the bakery, I pull the door shut behind me, it had done the first click on the lock when I remember the missing key and I instantly push back on my front door and miraculously it opened again. It must have been the closest it can possibly get before locking when I pushed it open again.
That helpless feeling of being locked out of the house instantly sent chills up my spine.
If I had locked myself out of the house at 11.30am, with Sam in the city in his office and Charlie in parts unknown, it would have been a disaster.
The day is progressing very nicely, from there though. Yes, it just drifted away, thank you very much.
