Dragging My Arse To The Gym

Today its freezing. I'm freezing. Fuck me, it's winter.

Charlie came rushing out to put his ebike on charge. He must be going to use it later, and forgot about charging it. 

He came out in his longJohns, that cling to him, at the best of times. Did he not realise he had a hardon? Surely he must have? It was like he didn't think, just thinking about getting that ebike on charge. Anyway, Good onya Charlie. I don't look at Charlie that way, I don't, but it was hard not to notice.

I've been on the couch all morning, under a blanket, re-writing my blogs. Up early, of course. Trying to keep warm.

I have to take Otto for a walk. I should just take him, it would warm me up.

I have to go to the gym, but the thought of putting on shorts and a singlet in this weather makes me shiver just thinking about it.

Brrrrrrr.

I didn't go to the gym on Tuesday, bad Christian.

I should go. No, I really should go. I'm going to go. Yes, I am. I am going. I'm shaking with the cold just thinking about it.

Just A Day

It was just a work day, nothing special. Wednesday. Is there anything good that can be said about Wednesday? It was cold, winter cold. I kept stoking the open fire up with wood all day to heat up the lounge room, even though I wasn't in there. It was freezing all day.

And, yes, I think Boris is shitty with me about her holidays, she's been kind of different, can't put my finger on it, but short, and not really very friendly, friendly enough, but kind of pulled back. Not sure if that makes sense. And today she said she was far too busy to help me with something, and she has never said that before.

I can understand, really. I did say yes, and then say no, sure I did. She didn't kind of ask me, though, she just said when she was taking holidays and assumed I'd fill in for her. And I kind of didn't think quick enough what that really ment under the current circumstances. When I really thought about it, on the next weekend, I realised it would be a nightmare and that I really didn't want to do it, and I told her.

Shrug. Last day of the week for me. WooHoo! (There's something good that can be said about Wednesday)

And I don't have to work full time any time in my future. Let's have a cheer for that.

Ha ha.

Go on, bugger off to Lapland. Have a nice time. (not until next month, of course)

Dead On A Grey Afternoon

I'm pretty sure I saw a dead body yesterday.

I was leaving the office just before 3pm. I was running up Collins Street to William Street. I like to run when I leave the office on my days in there. You know, get the hell out of there. Ha ha.

It's not just symbolic, it's the time I remember to run. When was the last time you ran? Do you even remember? I think it must be good for us to run sometimes, to feel the heaving, and that hard breathing, get you lungs working. I like it. It makes me feel alive.

Half way up Collins Street, there was a woman on a street bench with two police officers standing around her, and weirdly, two teenage boys taking photos. To tell you the truth, it was the police officers and the teenage boys who really caught my attention, as they were doing something.

I didn't really look at the woman, except to notice she was sitting on a very uncomfortable angle. And I saw her hands, as I ran past, which were definitely not the right colour, they were kind of grey/blue. They were really not a healthy colour.

A good day to die? By yourself, on a street bench. I guess, it's as good a place as any, in your woollen winter coat and your best hat.

It was a cold, grey afternoon. I guess it was the kind of day that death would come calling.

As I sat on the tram, I heard sirens coming from far away.

First Day With Boris After I Said No

Okay, today is the first day I see Boris face to face after I reneged on doing her nightmare holiday relief. I wonder how it will go?

It still seems far to easy an 'out' on my part, let me tell you, but I guess I will find out this morning, hey?

I have a 10am meeting with Boris and The Midget, so I wonder what they will say?

"I'm very happy with my decision, thank you very much and no, I don't want to reconsider," is all I have to remember.

Over the last year the thing Boris has said more than anything else is that our work life is almost unbearable with the partners, and out of control HR, and The Midget's micromanagement, it was just a shame I didn't think of all that when I first said yes I would do her holiday relief. It is just a shame that it took me a week to change my mind.

What happens if they say that can't get a temp manager to fill the role?

Fuck it, my answer is still no. Boris can swan around Lapland when she can get a temp manager to replace her.

Anyway, I'd better get my arse moving.

A little later…

The first message I read is from The Midget, she wants to chat to me first thing.

Some time later...

Boris seemed a little pissed off today. Was it with me? I don't know. Maybe she was.

How Sundays Should Be

We took Otto for a walk, around midday, once around the gardens in the warm winter sun shine, and then home again. Sam headed off to the supermarket, as we got near home, to get food for lunch, and Otto wanted to know why, as he always does, constantly looking back for a short time. He never likes to split the pack up. Buddy was the same.

We cleaned too, of course, before we went out, it was Sunday after all, and my boyfriend is a stickler for that kind of routine. One of my favourite expressions is, a mind is a terrible thing to waste on house work, however...

Then it was a day on the couches doing screens.

We watched Project Hail Mary, er, um, nyr. Sam's pick. I wanted to watch Clarkson's Farm. Right there is the different tastes in our movie/TV watching, what is it they say, in a nutshell.

We ate lamb shanks and roast vegetables.

I fell asleep on the couch in front of Last One Laughing.

Out To The Burbs

Sam had games to pick up he'd ordered online. So, like the good boyfriend of the non-driving boyfriend type, I had to drive him. So we had to drive to a couple of suburban shopping centres to pick the games up. Joy. These were games on special that were only available at the retail outlets. 

Ah, Northland, how I loath thee. These high rise shopping meccas are there places that are more awful than them? Shopping places? They are awful, really they are. The Great Unwashed converging, fighting for car space just to have the privilege of shopping there.

I took Otto, so he and I waited outside, so I didn't have to go in. No dogs allowed. You have to be suspicious of anywhere that has a no dogs allowed policy, I reckon. No dogs allowed, I don't want to go there either.

(did you know in some parts of Italy, you can take your dogs into the supermarket)

Otto and I went to the Chemistwarehouse. I can take him into the Collingwood, or Fitzroy Chemistwarehouses, how about Northland? I don't know, I didn't ask. We just went in. I wasn't sure if I was getting looks, or not, but the checkout boy didn't say anything, so I can only assume it was okay. I thought it was okay, so we were okay. Every thing was okay.

The last time I was in Chemistwarehouse, in Fitzroy, there was me and my dogs, and a woman with an Airedale. There was another woman standing in the middle of the entrance foyer having an absolute meltdown to who, I assume, is the chief pharmacist about dogs in the shop. She was borderline hysterical, as I walked past, at which point she turned from him to me and beseeched me not to bring my dogs into the space, to which I replied with, “Go get some therapy, luv.”

So, it makes you a little wary,

So, after our expedition to the suburban swell, we came home via Carlton and bought fish burgers & chips for lunch. Lovely. The Rathdowne fish & chippery makes the best chips.

The rest of the day was a breeze, pissing around at home.

Dinner. And fall asleep on the couch for a few hours. Lovely.

Milo's face

It's not quite that bad, but you get the picture

I'm up early. I make coffee and I sit on the couch.

Milo jumps up and cuddles up like he does every morning, getting in cuddles before the bulldog gets up and wrecks it.

He looks at me, and I look at him. The side of his face is swollen. Oh, really?  I say. Haven't we had enough of vets for this year?

Milo has twenty four legs when it comes to putting him in the cat box for a vet visit. It is just about impossible to get him in, so that will be a joy, I think, to come, very shortly by the look of his face.

First up, I need to make an appointment.

When I had a cat that used to fight all the time, the vet taught me just to find the scab abd pull it off, and that will usually allow the abscess to drain which is usually as good as any vet visit.

I got pretty good at it with my other cat. You just can't think too much about it, just find it and pull. It worked like a charm.

I feel around the side of Milo's face for a scab, much to his catty annoyance, but I can't find a scab.

Grrrr!

He jumps off the couch and heads for parts unknown.

No reply from Josh.