Watch the Chillies in the Basil Chicken

My shopping hasn’t been exactly thorough lately, despite the daily trip to the supermarket, as that is, usually, for dinner. The “staples” shopping that I would normally do when I am on my own, seems to have fallen somewhat by the wayside.

I’m not quite used to this constant companion, as I have had since Sam finished work. Funny, I only seem to be getting my head around the “we” things and not the “I” things. I have to say, I do like some alone think time to organise myself. OM!

I forgot to pay bills and paid them late. I forgot to pay my mobile phone bill altogether.

I got up and I mixed the remains of the muesli with the berry yogurt, as I am now out of muesli. I prepared a bowl of just yogurt for Sam. I made coffee and got our laptops out for each of us.

It’s nice though, don’t get me wrong.

I managed to finish off five days worth of journal writing for my blog. I was happy in the warmth of the lounge room, hunched over my laptop, the day was sliding away. Isn’t that what you do on your day off? Let it all slide away? I’m sure it was once? I felt so shielded, cocooned, if you like. Fire, thicks socks, ah life is good. I'm a man of simple needs.

Slide away day, I don't care.

Sam made a comment on the fact that I hadn’t cleaned up the kitchen yet, from last night, then he disappeared.

I vaguely heard doors opening and closing and I vaguely heard the water running, but I was fully tuned into my journal, to my writing and I didn’t really take it all in.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Sam appeared back, in what seemed like, a short time late, all sirens blaring, shinny and clean and clearly ready to head out the door.

“Yes, honey?”

“See you mate. See you mate.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m going out for lunch, see you mate.”

“You didn’t say anything about going out to eat?”

“What do you think I have been doing?”

“You only said that I hadn’t cleaned the kitchen.”

“I’m hungry!” Big eyes. See you mate.”

Now, you see, the one thing that you don’t want to interfere with is his food. “Do not get between me and my food,” he has said on many occasions.

“Wait, wait, wait, I’ll have a shower and be ready. Why didn’t you say so?”

There I was sitting in track pants and hoodie barefoot stinking like yesterday. Pleading face.

“Move your arse!”

The one skill that I do have is showering quick. I can literally be ready in 5 minutes.

We ate Thai at Yim Yam. I had green curry, Sam had Basil Chicken. I might suggest to you that you watch the chillies in the basil chicken, if you have it. There were a mountain of chillies on the side of his plate when he was done and he likes it spicy.

I wanted a muffin after lunch, you know, something sweet, but Sam told me it was fat food that I didn’t need. We walked up Smith Street the Sunny and ended up buying two muffins. Well, Sam asked for a choc chip and white chocolate and raspberry muffin, which is, actually, two muffins and when the lady behind the counter looked confused, I jumped in and said we'd have both. I said yes and the lady behind the counter winked and put them both in bags before Sam caught on. Ha, ha. Yum yum!

We topped up the ingredients in the cupboard to make baked potatoes again tonight – sour cream, mushrooms and leeks. As we headed home, I said we must do some exercise. I held up the muffin, despite it being my idea to purchase it. It is still cake, no matter how muffins are sold as a healthy alternative.

We drank tea and ate half a muffin before we left for a walk. I had the raspberry and white chocolate and Sam had chocolate.

Then we went for a walk up Gertrude Street, down Swantson Street, down Elgin Street, up my street. The sun was gorgeous in Gertrude Street as we left, as we walked west into it.

It was a lovely day, actually. Sunny. It was nice to be out in it. It was lovely getting the blood pumping and the limbs moving.

We drank tea and ate the other half of our muffins when we got back. Yum, yum.

We watched Millionaire Hot Seat. Sam thinks I should go on it, as I have good general knowledge. But, I don’t know sport and I don’t really know science questions, although I know a little of each.

We cooked baked potatoes, while Friends was on. Leek and mushroom and bacon and beetroot and corn and pineapple and sour cream.

We watched Masterchef. I liked TJ, but she got booted off.

The doorbell rang. I turned to Sam. “I wonder if that is Sebastian, here for Shane? It is Thursday night and I’m not expecting anyone. I hate it when Shane does that.”

I opened the door to Sebastian. “Hi luv.”

Then, thinking about it, Shane does that every time Sebastian comes over. Every time, I am sure. It was 19.30 and Shane isn’t often that late home, and yet, he always seems to be “this” late home when Sebastian comes over.

What would be the obvious conclusion?

The obvious conclusion is that it is deliberate. It is a pathetic cry for attention. Look at me, look at me. It is a sad attempt to show Sebastian how busy he is. It is a pitiful try to show us how important and what an executive he really is.

Too mean?

Quite possibly? But, I am sure, it is a sad attempt to alleviate his inferiority complex and his sense of being a lesser human being. 

He Can't do Anything to Please Me, Let's Face It

We got up latish, after 10am and got straight in the shower, expecting to have to leave straight away. Then we tip-toed down the stairs quietly with our ears pricked, peeking our heads around every corner looking to see if Guadalupe was here.

She wasn’t! Yay!

I made coffee and muesli and we got our laptops and set up with gay abandon, as if Guadalupe was never going to arrive.

But, eventually, click, click, scuff, scuff, scuff, scuff. “Ullow.”

I looked at Sam, he looked at me.

“Hello,” we carolled in unison.

Then we got our bags, coats and scarves – read, wallets, phones and, in my case, glasses – and exited immediately stage left – read, front door.

The options were the dumpling shop in La Trobe Street, or Korean BBQ in Lonsdale Street. I wanted dumplings, but Sam suggested they were the fattiest option and he wanted fat boy’s old establishment.

Pork fat is fattening?

We ate dumplings. We were getting there just after the lunch period started and the dumpling shop can have quite a queue waiting for tables, but it didn’t this morning, it was predominately empty. So, not to self, the dumpling shop doesn’t fill up until 1pm. You know

As we stepped back out on to La Trobe Street, it was just after 1pm. The sun was shining weakly and we still had an hour and half to fill in before the cleaner left the house.

We walked to Swanston Street and I got Sam the $340 he paid for the new wok and frying pan. $340 for a fry pan and wok. I don’t know? The fry pan and wok I have just replaced didn’t cost any where near that amount of money and they lasted for ten years, or more. So, why did I pay that much for them? If the cheaper ones lasted for as long as I expect the more expensive ones to last, why am I paying the premium price? I don’t know?

I love what they have done to Swanston Street. They have turned it into a pedestrian space right through the centre of the city and it looks great.

We walked to the police station to tell them about the wood chopping nutter man. They couldn’t help much, well, I don’t know who it is or where he lives. But the copper was cute, nice blue eyes.

We headed to the supermarket... of course.

We made baked potatoes and watched TV.

Shane went to gym.

Shane came home in the middle of Offspring. He has this habit of coming in and talking over whatever TV show is going on… because the world revolves around him... and he wants to know! His timing is lousy too. And I suspect Shane is going deaf, so he always asks for things to be repeated.

Rocket the dog has just died and Mick is upset and trying to contact Billie. It is a very emotional and compelling moment.

“What’s going on?” asks Shane.

I wasn’t even going to reply.

“Rocket the dog has died,” replies Sam.

“Who’s dog?” asks Shane.

“Mick’s dog,” replies Sam.

“Who?”

“Mick.”

“Is that him?”

“Yes,” says Sam.

“His dog?”

“Yes,” says Sam.”

“What happened to him.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure,” says Sam.

“We’re just finding out now,” I say.

“Oh,” says Shane. “Is he dead?”

And the moment is over, Shane has talked all the way through it. There is an ad break and Shane stops asking questions.

He does it all the time. He comes into the kitchen and expects to be informed and filled in irrespective of what any one else is doing. Me, me, me!

The whole Rocket death scene was ruined.

Happy Anniversary

I was awake early, earlier than I needed to be. I was awake on my own, for the first time in a long time. Sam stayed at his place for the first time since he stopped work. I didn’t need to be at work until 9am and Airport West isn’t so far away. I didn’t really need to leave until 8.30am… and it was 7am.

So I took my muesli back up to my room and switched on my laptop. I hadn’t written my blog since the middle of last week, bad me, bad me. I think maybe I need some alone time to do it, maybe, to write. Maybe I’m just losing interest in it. I am losing interest in my blog.

Anyway…

Mark and I met today, twenty three years ago today. That went really quick.

So, I posted 01st of May on Facebook in honour of the occasion. It used to be our song.

He loved it. We’re stupid like that. He’s wonderful, of course. He’s one of my real friends.

I must remember, that I don’t have to be best friends with housemates, it doesn’t have to be so.

Shane gets up around 8.30, so around about 8.20, I headed downstairs to head out to my car. Just as I decided, I heard Shane doing his loud, morning yawn.

“AHHHHH!” “AHHHHH!” “AHHHHH!” Even his morning yawns are “Look at me! Look at me!”

Shane was in the kitchen as I dropped my bowl down to the dishwasher.

“Good morning,” I ask.

“Good morning.”

“How are you?”

“OH…” sigh, “I’m soooo tired!”

Okay, I’ll bite, I’m trying to be nice. “Why are you so tired?”

“I’ve been doing soooo much exercise lately, I just think I need more sleep.”

Doesn’t doing exercise have the opposite effect, I thought? Doesn’t exercise pep you up and give you more energy?

“Okay, see you.” I headed to the back door.

How much exercise would that be, I thought? My central locking went clunk and I got into the car.

Negative Bitch!

It is cold. It was cold on my way to work. I had to put the car heater on.

I bought cigarettes at Woolworths on my way. The pot is gone, but the cigarettes remain. Bloody Shane! I wish he wouldn’t bring pot into the house. Of course, I embrace it with gusto when he does, it is true. But if he didn’t, I wouldn’t even be thinking about it, let alone embracing it.

“Hello, my name is Christian and I am an addict.”

I was working at (name of company) in Airport West. It was a relatively easy day, two days to get all the transactions input. That’s it, that is where I am done. I could easily have got it done in one day, but hey, the life of a temp. Why take one day to do something when they will pay you for two days.

And today, they would quite legitimately have been able to say, Well, I think he would have got it done in one day, if he hadn’t been outside smoking the whole time.

I took my time… clearly.

I left at 5pm.


Sam was staying at his place. I lit a fire, put on my trackie’s and got my laptop.

I had leftover fried rice for dinner, while Shane pissed around doing his washing. I didn’t want him to cook for me, I didn’t want to be beholden to him for any food. I wanted to say that I had eaten, if he asked. Then he came out and prepared a meal and then he disappeared back to his room. I ate oranges.

“Then he said, I’m going to the gym. I think my dinner is okay in the oven, but if it starts to smell, can you turn it off, or take it out?”

I headed to bed not long after. I was trying to write my journal up and I didn’t really want to be sharing the lounge room later with Shane and his inane conversation… or his aunt-got-a-fright-laugh, which he seems to have cultivated lately. “Wooo.”

Besides, bed is nice.

I watched Teev and mostly messed around with my photos.

Secretly, I kind of hope Shane’s dinner burned. After which, I always think of those people who claim to be able to teach you to be happy and wonder if this kind of negativity is only poisoning me. That’s what they say, hey? Isn’t it?

And We're all Getting Stoned

We got up late, lovely Sunday.

We smoked pot. Actually, Sam didn’t smoke pot, he declined. It was only me who smoked. Sam just gave me that look and asked me if I was happy, when I “returned from my balcony.”


I took a bud from the pot bag that Shane left on the coffee table when he went to bed last night. I took a traveller.

Well, he left it there when he went to bed… so, what is a boy to do?


I pulled my huge digital family photo collection together for the first time ever. It was fun, more than fun. It was the culmination of what? … seven years worth of scanning, prints, negatives and slides and editing… maybe? There is still a whole lot more editing to do, but now they are all together. The whole lot all together, over one hundred years of my families photos all together in one collection.

I am very pleased about that.

Yes i am drinking again ,what a relief . My messages may be garbled and miss spelt but i am feeling fine . Has lazy bones found a job yet ? . Love Anthony

Shopping

Sam woke up singing a chorus of Shopping, shopping, shopping. Shopping, shopping, shopping.

We were off on a Saturday morning shopping expedition. We smoked a joint before we left, much to Sam’s lip pursed disapproval.

As we walked up Gertrude Street, I decided that I would buy some rolly papers at the shop. Shane only ever seems to buy one packet at a time. I know, I know, it is such a large investment, one has to be careful. I mean, you couldn’t possibly be expected to think to stock up at 60 cents a packet, now could you, especially when there is, actually, no substitute.

I walked into the milkbar, asked for a packet of Venti’s and then promptly pulled my mouse from my back pocket.

Sam raised his hands in the air and gave me “that” look. He, of course, said something about me being stone.

“Oh yes, lovely! Mari does you the world of good, mmm, mmm, mmm!”

I was a little baffled initially. But, when I went to bed last night, I collected up all of my stuff as per usual. What I thought was my wallet in the back wallet pocket of my jeans, was, in fact, my mouse. This morning, when I pulled on the same pair of jeans, I still thought the lump in my back right hand side pocket was my wallet.

I was momentarily bamboozled when, at the counter of the milk bar I was looking at some shiny and white which was supposed to be matt black.


We went to QV, we waited out side the door of Harvey Norman with all the other Super Saturday shoppers. We were there to buy iTunes cards. Pay $20 and you get $40 cards. Sam was going to get his new Apple operating system for 50% off and apps and music for half price. We hadn’t had breakfast, so I went to get Breadtop buns and coffee. All the other’s in line look longingly at our food, seemingly sniffing into the air for the aroma of our coffee.

The doors opened and we charged in like I have seen happen on the TV for stock taking sales. We were first in line at the counter and our mission was completed within minutes. We had a look at the phones, which seemed to be a good deal, but while Sam says I need new phones, I’m not completely convinced.

As we headed out the door, the queue for the iTunes cards stretched halfway across the shop.

Then we headed to Myer for new cookware. Apparently, they were having a 40% off sale. I’m not sure how Sam knows these things. We bought a scanpan frying pan and woke. Essentially, we paid for both what one the wok would usually cost on its own.

We ate Indonesian in Swanston Street, at some café that Sam used to go to when he was a student. The woman owner remembered him. Really? I guess that is why she is successful. How many years has it been?

Life Is All About Playing Games

I text Jill and David as I walked briskly along Gertrude Street towards the post office this morning to pay the bills finally.

Jill, “Good morning Potato. Isn’t it a lovely day,” – christian

David, “Good morning, you fat slag,” – christian

“Darling, did you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror?” – David

“No, it was you, honey. A fat girl in black tights in Gertrude Street.” – christian


I’ve decided that I must keep in more contact with Jill, even if it is just sms’ in the morning.

I’ve also got to stop worrying about losing Shane as a friend. Friends come and friends go and it’s not by hanging on tight to them that you keep them as friends. Some times, you have to let them go.


Ah, the bills. With last week wiped out completely and then having to work for the first 3 days of this week, I got behind with my bill paying. I finally paid them this morning, as I seem to remember myself complaining to the nice man behind the counter about my fingers and how they weren’t working in the cold.

“It’s odd because I’m usually good with the cold.”

Shane is almost pathological about paying the bills after I have paid them. It is almost like he uses me as a benchmark, because he isn’t that capable to work it out himself. I seem to say to him at least 5 times that bills need to be paid, before he will pay them as late as he can. And it almost always has been after he can see the evidence that I have paid them. Well, as you will have already guessed, this drives me to distraction. He is making me responsible for his bill paying.

So, now I keep telling him to pay them, irrespective of whether I have paid them or not. And now when I pay them, I put the bills back on the kitchen bench, minus the evidence of my payment, I now remove the receipt. He always never pays them until one of the reminders comes, so I store one of the originals with the receipt attached. I leave the other original on the kitchen bench, with the third copy that has come with Overdue written in bold letters on it.

Superior September Virgos thrive on these sorts of mind games, it’s what makes life interesting. I’m not sure if inferior, August Virgos cope quite so well.

The Nut House

I was at the (name of organisation) today. It was a lovely walk there in the fresh morning air, past the park with its tall trees waving their branches in the air. The day seemed to sparkle.

The receptionist made a point of telling me that she was really the female security rather than the girly role of the receptionist, with out me asking or caring.

“I'm not the receptionist, the real one is stuck in traffic, hon," she said sounding more like a truck driver than anything else.

Lesbian, I thought. She said that I had just asked for the person who I was replacing and that someone else would be down shortly to see me.

Soon someone named Benny turned up. He seemed to be a special needs person, who was loud and talked and talked and talked. Blah, blah, blah, blah. My ears were in danger of bleeding by the time we got to the office.

“Here’s where you’ll be working.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

Benny proceeded to pull all of my work together for me.

“Here’s what I’ve pulled together for you so far.” He handed me a fistful of papers.

“Are there any procedures? Instructions?”

“The boss, who knows about it all will be in soon?”

It all looked pretty straightforward, so I got on with it.

 The boss wandered in eventually. And I didn’t get there until 10am. When the boss finally got there, she rearranged everything I was doing, telling me about all the paperwork Benny had forgotten to mention.

Yay! Go to love that.

Later, I found Benny had a habit of questioning the boss loudly and forcefully, like an idiot would. She’d tell him to shut up just for a minute. It was like continual flare ups all day.

The boss giggled like a thirteen year old for long periods of time into the phone, speaking another language. She kept telling us how over worked she was and how tired she had become, like all managers seem to do now a days. Everyone has to be over worked, otherwise you are just not playing the 21^st century work ethic game properly.

The cleaner came through half way through the day. The boss made some comment to the cleaner, “That is why we are both chubby.”

This seemed to give the cleaner permission to start. “She only ever ate healthy things, all good stuff, no crap, but she still got fat.”

Then she proceeded to regale us with her dietary stories, loudly and in detail. At one point she announced, “I only have to look at food and I put on weight.”

She was still talking and telling stories as she backed down the stairs and out the front door.

The other girl in the office had a constant surprised look on her face, like bunny in the headlights. She looked as though she was continually on the brink of bursting into laughter, but never did. She always just looked that slightest bit “touched.” She’d make heavy breathing kinds of noises after any a response she gave me to whatever it was that I had asked her.

So, you can understand what I mean when I say that it felt like I was working in a sheltered workshop for the day. Benny yelling loudly and violently in disagreement to some discussion on the phone... the boss giggling like a 13 year old girl to a friend down the receiver... the cleaner backing down the staircase still giving dietary advice... and muttly to my left, wide-eyed, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant, pant.

I walked home in the golden afternoon sun, down streets line with elegant terrace houses.

Real Work

I was working in Airport West at a company called… oh, I’m not sure what it was called. It was given to me by (my company) on my conformation of assignment as a completely different name.

It was a cold and windy morning and 00 Y Street Airport West was bleak as I pulled up at 8.40am and parked in front of the old, cheap factory facades that had all seen better days. Actually, I’m not sure if they had seen better days, truthfully. At least 00 looked like the nicest building in the street. Not that I need to work in the nicest building in the street, old and daggy does me just as well, but on a cold blustery day it is comforting.

So with a straight back and a smile in I went, to a company that had a completely different name on the façade, but no biggie, that’s how it goes sometimes.

A, the girl I was to work with, was late to work, caught up in the ring road traffic, so I was ushered through the smelling-like-new-paint offices to the bare lunchroom.

I wondered what A was like, as I drank my brewed coffee and read yesterdays Herald Sun? All the surfaces were grey laminex and looked as though they had been recently sponged down.

A duly arrived and she wasn’t the tweed skirt and twin set type, in fact she was young and glamorous. We both got coffee.

As I sat next to her all morning, I realised she looked like a young Julia Roberts, not only did she look like Julia Roberts, she was very like her… with a hint of the blond girl from 2 broke girls. She was lovely.

And it was a normal company, with procedures and methods and someone who knew how everything worked, you know, like a real office. It made all the difference, it made me feel like I knew what I was doing and that I was good at something, after the nightmare that was (the not for profit company) yesterday. It makes me feel like I am good at what I do.

Does that make sense?

I picked up Sam at his place after work. Like real boyfriends

We went to the supermarket and bought bacon and mushrooms for risotto. $10 tonight for risotto ingredients of mushrooms and bacon and fruit. $13 last night, for spaghetti, tomatoes and meatballs, and fruit. You know, maybe it is cheaper to eat at home, I’ve been keeping a mental tally just lately. It is amazing how you can watch your dollars when suddenly you don’t have so many of them.

I Guess I Should be Gratefull

Wow, it is cold. as I head off to a new company in the west for a handover day for work I will be doing for them next week. Three companies in 3 days, the lonely life of a temp worked. Still, I guess I should be grateful I have a job.

The not for profit nightmare that I worked at yesterday was still the basket case they have always been. They themselves are very nice, but it is another office they have taken over and they have no idea what is going on and it is from this position of ignorance that they instruct me. They make me feel incompetent because I can't get a clear picture of what their requirements are.

I must get off my arse and get myself a permanent job. 

Easier still, I should get my act together and find myself a new housemate. He can pay some rent and I can work less. Okay, not so much less, but still less.

But, they way I’m feeling about Shane at the moment, I’m hesitating to look for another housemate. But, I’ll write about Shane later.

How I'd love to sit here all day and contemplate life with you all, today, but ABC Company is waiting and work waits for no man. I must go.

It's very quiet, just the cat door swinging as Missy heads out into the day. SWING… Swing… swing… swi… s…

Online advertising

Why do advertisers harass us on the internet, every page I click on there is some advertising voice talking at me. It pisses me off. I will NEVER want ANYTHING they have for sale. So they are just annoying the fuck out of me, is that their intention? Why can't I opt out of all internet advertising? Why can't I have an internet advertising filter? You could elect to have it, or not have it, no half measures, all in or all out. Surely that can't be too hard. I HATE it! It drives me completely nuts.
I think we should start a boycott the annoying advertisers campaign. Every company that has an annoying advert on the internet we could add them to the list of products to avoid and not to buy. With social media being what it is, it shouldn’t be too hard to publicise the list widely enough for it to have some effect.
This morning it has been BT Superannuation. Everybody should take their super out of BT Superannuation and put it in another fund. And those tampons, 


"You'll never forget the feeling of..." I for one will never use that brand.

It's cold isn't it?

It was cold this morning. I sat here wrapped in a blanket. Brrrrrr! I was looking at the cold fireplace, the grey coals, the colour of death. I had no fire lighters left with which to light a fire. Grrrr! I shivered. I thought about going back to bed.

So it was get off your arse and walk to the supermarket. Oh really... brrrr! I shivered again. Surely there is some kind of delivery service?

No? Oh!

I'm always criticising my housemates for not being able to light fires. I lived with two country boys who couldn't chop wood, Shane being one of them. It is really not that hard a concept. I'm a city boy and nobody had to teach me. 

So, let's not be a hypocrite. 

Yes, indeed, I thought. I would never survive in the wild with that kind of attitude. Dead and pecked by birds before the day was over, before the long shadows reached the horizon to form dusk. So, I found some sticks and I found some old newspaper and whoosh! A fire. Just like that. Easy peasy.

Maybe I would survive in the wild. Ha ha.

Grumpy Old Man

When I woke up this morning Sam was out of bed already. He had a test with an employment agent to get to by 10.30am. It was only just a little passed 9am. I was awake, so I decided to get up.

As I headed out my bedroom door and down the stairs, Shane was in the bathroom cleaning his teeth, so I decided that that moment was as good as any moment to ask him about his bed.

When Shane moved rooms, he decided to turn the antique fireplace in that room into a bedhead. So, he boarded up the ornate tiles and metal fire insert with a piece of chipboard. (Oh don't get me started on the taste of such a move) The fireplace has two carved wooden columns on either side, which he then place planks across from the base of one column to the base of the other column which would support his pillows. The whole thing is French polished and his mattress is, of course, pushed up against it.

After our first discussed this some weeks ago about moving the bed on to another wall, he wrapped these pillow supporting boards in towels. That was his response to me asking to move the bed.

The fireplace consists of a wooden mantel and an eight foot over mantel with a bevel edged mirror up against which he has pushed his bed. As I said to him, you start having energetic sex in there and the bed will be banging against the French polished wood work, your heads will be banging against the chipboard behind which are brittle tiles and a metal insert. You bash up against that for too long and too hard and it is possible you will bring the whole thing down on top of you.

That’s not even taking into account how much the whole thing would cost to repair/replace.

He just doesn’t see it.

“Shane, you still haven’t moved your bed?”

“No,” says Shane. "It will be fine."

"No it won't, you can't use an antique mantle piece as a bed head."

He tried to defend his actions and gave a clear impression that he was not going to move the bed.

“Do you want to see what I have done?”

“No, you have to move the bed, it is only going to damage the fire place.”

“Do you want to see what I have done?”

“No, you have to move it?”

“Do you want to see what I have done?”

“Move the bed Shane.”

I headed out to the kitchen and proceeded to make coffee. Sam headed to the shower.

Shane came into the kitchen.

He was doing the last few things before he went to work, and he clearly was no longer talking to me. I wanted to smooth things over, so I started talking gently. “Shane, can’t you see how with that set up you are only going to damage the fireplace, it is…?”

“No, it is not going to.”

“You have the bed up against the French polished wood.”

“It’ll be fine, I have made sure of that.”

“But you can’t…”

He stormed off to his room.

There are quite a number of things Shane has broken which he has never taken responsibility for. And you know, that is okay too. It’s wear and tear and things happen. I’m just being preemptive here.

He came storming back. “I will move the bed…”

I got the distinct impression that it wasn’t, actually, until this very moment that he was going to move the bed.

“But, you know the thing that most offends me about all of this, is how you have attacked me about this issue. You haven’t come to me as a friend, you have just attacked me."

“No, I haven’t. We’ve already discussed it.”

“Yes, you attacked me then…”

“I did not.”

“You don’t treat me as a friend. You don’t ask me how I am when I come back from Sydney. You don’t ask me how Tully is. You are just bad tempered and grumpy and…”

I don’t really remember the rest of it, but Shane turned it into a personal attack on me. Poor Shane, so terrified of confrontation. And he seems to have learnt (his ex boyfriend) Mark Windsor’s ad hominem methods of arguing, without Mark W’s intelligence to pull it off.

I was just discussing the bed and how it will lead to damage to the mantle piece, it was Shane who turned it into a personal attack on me.

I was a little surprised, but suddenly Shane was telling me how much he dislikes living with me, how hard I am to live with and what a rotten friend I am.

Really? So who is attacking who? Funny how blindly people are able to be such hypocrites.

I think we are going to have to have a little discussion tonight. “Shane, you made it quite clear this morning that you don’t enjoy living with me any longer, so I have to conclude that our time living together has drawn to a conclusion and it is time for you to find some where else to live.”