Do You Want Cake Every Day?

Raining, wet, cold. The sky is grey, overcast, dark. The wind blows and I can hear the rain drops being blown from the trees onto the tin roof. The rain falls, sprinkling all over the world, a constant thrum. There is a chill in the air.

Our weather can't quite decide if it is summer of winter. It is hot and humid on day and then cold and wet the next. I couldn't sleep last weekend because of the heat, I had trouble crawling out from under my doona this morning because of the cold.

I had a school teacher who had lived all over the world. He said that Melbourne had the most changeable weather of any city that he'd been to bar one. I can't remember what city that was, but its weather was more changeable.

I feel a bit cold. Jesus, just a few days ago it felt unbearable hot. Oh well, at least it is interesting, at least we don't get bored. You wouldn't want cake every day, as an old dowager friend of my mother's once said when I enthused about what the weather must be like living in Hawaii.

I made a list of all the things I should do, as I tried to prise myself from the warmth this morning. I'm going back to full time work on Monday, so time is short. But, now I think I'll just stay in doors with my computer and my cat. I'm contemplating ordering fire wood for the open fire.

I guess it is autumn, or for our American readers Fall. You know, I kind of like the name fall, it's whimsical. Fall gently to the ground, leaving the tree branches bare for the winter. Brown and gnarled, black when wet with rain silhouetted against the grey, grey sky. Fairies in the garden, and all that, peering out from under the fallen leaves of the Golden Elm.

The only time I've every had fairies in the garden is poofs coming down off whatever it was they took the night before. Ha ha.

I cleaned the kitchen. I poured the last of the red wine from the bottle from last night into a glass, it is not even midday. Is that wrong?

I stacked the dishwasher. I laughed as I slid the knives into the cutlery container blade up. It's perverse, I know. David used to always complain, said that it was like dealing with Edward Scissorhands whenever he went to the dishwasher, he was scared he was going to be slashed to pieces at any moment. He said knives should be stacked blade down, everybody knew that. He was the only person who stacked them that way. Oh, Shane does too, so I lost ground. I think it must be an HIV thing, as David and Shane are the only two I know who stack them that way.

Missy kept stepping under my feet. What is it with cats?