I didn't get home until just now. I thought I could smell something dead as soon as I walked in the front door. I've got a very sensitive sense of smell. But I decided that I was still being paranoid about the last massacre and the fact I have never found that particular carcass. I sometimes wonder if it is some where, just out of sight, going green. Missy was bleating from the back yard. She hadn't been fed since Friday.

I did arrange for someone to feed her, don't get me wrong, but it was only for Friday. But she said, don't worry if you can't get back, I'm just around the corner. When I called her to ask her to do cat duty on Saturday - she was house sitting for Tim and Nicholas just around the corner - she said, she had given Missy a whole can, on Friday, but had locked the key inside the house. Stupid people? You've got to wonder. How do they cope with the real difficult decisions in life?

You gave her a whole can of cat food? I thought. Fat girl will love you.

I felt bad, but what could I do. It wasn't like she'd starve.

She hasn't left my side, rubbing against my legs continuously. I don't think it is the food that she minds as much as the company.

I went to check my washing in the front room and found the source of the dead smell. A (may be) Pigeon tucked into the corner of one of the rooms, closest to the front door. I can assure you, I didn't want to look that closely.

Missy looked away - she even looked guilty - as if she hadn't notice and wandered away up the hallway... leaving me for the first time.

It would make a great short film, I thought, as I rolled the carcass into the plastic bag. Of course, we'd need smell-a-vision. I winced. Bad Boy Bubby'esque. I laughed. Hidden camera, to catch all the bird on cat action. Wild safari. Then the body lying there. Life is cheap, may be short. Finite. Night, day, night. Me cleaning it up. Missy in her Mrs Hyde outfit, dancing off. Time lapse photography. Life and death.

Well, maybe not a great short film. I'd had a joint by then, I could see it all.

Missy kept clear the whole time I was clearing up the carcass. She is, of course, now asleep on my foot.

Mark's just found out that his blood pressure is extremely high, after a spider bite he got on is foot. High blood pressure is a hereditary thing for him, his whole family has it. I told him he was my reason for living and he burst into tears. And he is my reason for living, my forever after; someone I have known for seventeen years, someone I will know forever.

I am Mark's rock. As corny as it sounds, we have unconditional love. We're soul mates.

I adore Luke and he adores me.

Life is good.

Manny called and bored me so badly, with his petty worries, I fobbed him off.

I smoked cigarettes all weekend, the function wasn't good. Bunch of piss pots. Jasus!

I didn't pick up my car, it wasn't good, either. It was actually about a clutch peddle problem, which I was slow in telling them about, to tell you the truth. They could fix it Monday, no problem.

I do hope they aren't the dodgy brothers? To tell you the truth, I have been so ineffectual during this whole car sale, my level of disinterest means they could have pulled anything over me. I just wanted to wiggle my nose and have a car. The rest of it is bullshit.

The RACV gave it the green light; suspected worn clutch, maybe some engine work. All termed regular service items, adjustment items, at this stage. This is an eight year old GTI, you have to expect a bit of wear, it's that kind of proposition. This one comes with a three year warranty, (it's not a factory warranty, it's a dodgy brother's used car salesmen warranty, but a warranty, none the less) and is still $4000 cheaper than the competing cars for sale.

And it was the only car with a sunroof, which is the actual reason I picked this particular car.

So, even if I have to spend $4000, touch wood that I don't - please universe no, you should see my finances - I'd still have a GTI with a sunroof... with a new clutch, or rebuilt engine, whatever (and may be the warranty on this car will actually pay some of/all of the cost... and maybe it's a con, who knows); none of the more expensive cars had warranties, may be one, they were all private sales and none were claiming any brand new parts, no recent rebuilds or new clutches, so I'm no worse off?

That's my reasoning, any way.

But what will the Peugeot specialist say, when I take it to him? Cross your fingers.

I can't quite believe I have to go to work tomorrow. Rachel will be shitty with me taking a morning off to pick up my car, Tuesday, after I have just had a week off. But, she'll be cool with it, in the end. I'll work back, if need be, no sweat. And quite frankly, and I mean this with love, who really cares if she's not.

I'm getting a new car!