Just on 2pm, I glanced over thinking about my time sheet, so I know the time, Chuckles said I could go early, if I liked, and I liked, but then she was cruel and said hang on, “I have this to do.” She turned to me with a wad of papers in her hand. It was the Talent – do you like that, that’s what we call the models – super that had to be paid, pertaining all the way back to June. Boo Hoo. And I had to set them up on line first, of course. Dam. What has she been doing? 5pm here we come, I thought, and then it came and I was walking out that door, quick as a flash.
We picked the car up from the mechanic. It had to have its radiator replaced. I met Sam out the front of his building, actually, in side, I always manage to find the couch in the foyer to sit on.
Friday night Sam was looking at bulldogs for sale on line. We found a great dog in Bundoora.
Sam was keen. He called and they said we’d come to see him tomorrow at 10am.
I was worried about Missy. “We should wait until Missy dies and then get a dog,” I said. “One pet at a time.”
Sam agreed, but he looked disappointed.
“It doesn’t mean we can’t go and look, the more…” I held my fingers in the air in exclamation marks, “research we do the better.”
“We can still go and look.”
Sam kept saying his name. Actually, he kept saying Annabel, as that was the perfect coloured puppy he’d seen last week, but which was sold when he enquired about her. He’d been saying Annabel’s name all week.
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