Hanging Out

I was up at 7am. I listen to the radio. The RBA leave interest rates alone. Robbie Williams is having his first baby. James Murdoch has resigned from chairman of BskyB.

I stared at the ceiling. So tell me again, how long do I have to do a meaningless office job? How did I get this wrong? My sister has seven houses.

I started writing my journal again, after my shower and before I got dressed. It is 7.32. I haven’t updated my blog. What is wrong with me, I get home early enough? I was too busy writing my journal last night.

The sun is shining crisply outside and I feel like spending the day writing.

Smoking Brenda stresses, in a kind of negative way, kind of defeatist. “Oh, why is that happening? I’ve down loaded a file three times and it still isn’t saving on my computer. Why? I don’t know why? Why is this happening?” Stress. Stress.

So that’s what I’m hearing all day.

“How are you going with that?”

And today it was, “Have you finished yet.”

It was frittata and cup cakes for lunch.

I got one company balanced. I’d completed two others, but neither of them was balancing. The first of the second two, was correcting the mess she mad of it last month, but that was the first time she had done all end of month reports herself. Still? The balancing figure was one of her calculations, so I’m wondering where the error lies.

She wanted two companies completed by the time we left for the day. That would give us two for tomorrow. I got one and nearly two other’s completed. Still, it would have made her stress, off schedule and all.

My point is, that she is very capable and she solved every problem she had, she completed what she wanted to get done. She’s great.

She doesn’t need to stress at all.

I was leaving at 16.30, don’t you worry about that. I don’t actually get paid enough in this gig to give any of it away for free. Temps aren’t paid that well.

“I’ll have to complete this in the morning.”

“Oh.” Smoking Brenda looked at her watch. “Have you balanced?”

“No, I’ve got two that don’t balance.”

“Oh… okay… tomorrow morning, yes.”

She shook her head when I left, “We are going to be very busy tomorrow.” 

I didn’t, actually, get everything completed. In my defence, I could have simply imported a spread sheet, but that function isn’t working on their software. I don’t know why.

“I don’t know why,” was Brenda’s answer.

So, I don’t know why.

Rich law firms do have some advantages… not many, so we should celebrate the few.

Besides, I had other things on my mind. I drove straight home. Gazing at the other side of the freeway in astonishment, as I do even more so in the mornings. In the mornings, the “into the city” side is at a stand still back to the new airport turn off.

I came home made tea and raced straight up to Shane’s room and stole some pot, just enough for two joints. I was hanging out. Oh yes, I know? But I really wanted a cigarette and now that I am back on quicksand and am, I am more than ready to admit I’m an idiot. But I thought one joint, even of the ill gotten variety, is better than a cigarette. I’m going to stop tomorrow, don’t you worry about that.

Oh yes, I know, bad me. I buy him pot too. Perhaps I should get him some to share for Easter. Except, I really don’t want to smoke.

Of course, Shane asked Sam to wait on Saturday. But it had nothing to do with the pot, that was just his hi-as-a-kite disposition. Meth makes you chatty, he breaks down boundaries completely and people speak from their pressing need. He really wanted us to see Tully – but I didn’t work that out until today, when I was on the balcony smoking my ill gotten gains.

Lovely.

I staid in my room and wrote.

Shane bought home a baked potato.

I watched Big Bang Theory with him and then made an excuse to head to bed. Too many spread sheets on 10 point font, my eyes were tired, I was tired.

I wanted to take my stoned being away from him, so I’m not there when he discoveries, if he discovers, that I have used all the cigarettes in joints. I don’t want him to accuse me of smoking, as it is worse than he expects.

I watched Big Bang Theory in bed and smoked the last joint rolled from the ill-gotten goods.

The footy show came on. I thought of Smoking Brenda home on her own, with her fags and dog gazing at the TV.

“I don’t cook much, because I am on my own.” She has told me that fact repeatedly.

I’ve always had a crush on Gary Lyons.

I switched the channel.

Mark called. He’s back from Bamboo Island. He shows me the pictures of the two handsome straight boys, English, German he shared the week with. We spoke for ages.

The Agony Uncles comes on, despite myself I like it. The uncles are cute. I’d lick Josh Lawson all over.

At the movies comes on.

Movies to see,

“This must be the place.” Sean Penn. He plays an aging glam rocker living on is royalties. It looks like it should have been a Johnny Depp role.

“Salmon Fishing in Yemen.” Girl meets boy. Girl get’s boy. Girl loses boy.

The four hundred Blows. Classic French new wave cinema, some famous directors favourite movie of all time.