Sickie

I took the day off. Pulled a sickie. Stayed home. It was just too cold outside. Brrrr!

Central heating on. I'm still cold.

Chop wood. Chat to my neighbour, Bec, still in her dressing gown, hair akimbo, about Macadamias and Emus.

Bec wants to talk. I keep picking up the axe, she keeps starting a new conversation.

Finally, get inside. Light open fire. Light a joint. Make coffee.

Scour Gaydar. Get propositioned.

Watch porn. Have a wank.

Come too in front of the midday movie. Annette Benning in decline. Bitter with a gun.

Missy is nestled next to me like a rock.

Eat grapes. Er, I thought they were seedless.

Cook toast. Smear it in my favourite, at the moment, Seeded Mustard with tuna.

Roll another joint.

Read the newspaper. If you don't believe there are conservative forces in power, they are closing down art exhibitions, in Sydney. Rudd's as much of a book burner as Howard.

Gentle winter light seeps in through my glass ceiling.

Grind beans. Make coffee.

Stoke the fire. Days of our lives. Turn the teev off.

Eat grapes. Drink mushroom soup.

Look at Porches on the internet.

Heavy forehead, brain spins.

Head to bed for afternoon nap.

Is it disturbing that I find the sons from Malcom in the Middle sexy? Not Dewy. But Malcom and Reese, I'd like to see a brotherly double act. As for Francis, I just want to snog him. All that hyperactivity, he'd be lot's of fun.

Come too at 6pm. Stoke fire.

Watch Big Brother. Smoke pot with Shane.

Matt brings home pizzas.

David is in Bali with Tony - it's love, it's real and it's forever.

It is noted as unusual that we haven't heard from David, he's normally more needy than that.

The three of us choof together.

Wake up at midnight on couch alone. Shiver.

Get wood, save fire.

Shane appears - now that I think about it, very busy.

We share two bed time joints.

I head to bed.