gaa nigh chriso... Ima bit pisset… hab a lubbly slip... me
My car is ready to be picked up. It was ready on Friday, but my incommunicado status on Friday stopped me from getting the message, when I was remiss with recharging my phone and taking calls. I always see it as a blessing when my phone battery is flat, but, maybe, in retrospect, not on this occasion. Oops.
It was a beautiful sunny day, none the less. I got ready to go, first thing... but then decided, in the end, that I should do a proper morning, rather than just running out of the house. It was Monday morning and I was in no hurry. I had a shower and made coffee and prepared muesli and rolled a joint.
Then, I decided that it was a nice day for a walk through the park for Buddy. It was a bright sparkly morning, perfect for taking the hound for a trot on the end of a leash. So the two of us set off into the glorious sunshine of the day around 11.30am.
We walked through the Exhibition Gardens. Lovely.
We got to Sam’s office around midday and text him from the footpath. But, he didn’t answer, so we kept walking.
Two women told Buddy he was beautiful. Nobody told me I was beautiful.
We walked through the Flagstaff Gardens, where the hunky gardeners were cleaning the path with one of those hand blowers.
We got to Spencer Street in, what seemed like, no time at all.
Mario said, as I walked in, “Jesus Christian, I haven’t seen a dog like that for years.”
“This is Buddy, he decided to accompany me on the walk this morning.”
Mario moved cars around, putting mine in the driveway with its engine running.
I went back into the office, with all of the guys looking through the window at Buddy.
“How old is your dog?” asked Mario from the back office.
“He just turned two.”
$2800, sign here.” Mario handed me the receipt, I put my glasses on. “It was really $3200, but I looked after you, so I rounded it down.”
“Thanks Mario.”
Then it was me and my British dog and my European hot hatch sliding through the traffic. Buddy put his dark glasses on and reclined in the back.
Christian 1:27 PM
How do you feel now?
Mark 1:28 PM
ahhh... just a quincy bit seedy
I made pancakes with butter and maple syrup. I brewed a fresh pot of coffee, I put Bettye LaVette on and began to write. The pancakes were powerfully good, powerfully rich. I’m sure they were expanding in my stomach… like foamafil... after I had finished eating.
Mark 2:33 PM
how are your puncacke....
Christian 2:33 PM
lovely... but I am really full now
Mark 2:34 PM
piggy piggy piggy... poo... cried the farmers daughter phillys
Christian 2:35 PM
It is best not to think too much about them to much, at this stage
2:35 PM
:)
Mark 2:38 PM
the punkak
2:39 PM
Puking
I smoked another joint and put Janis Joplin on and lay back on the couch. I rubbed my belly and thought about going for a bike ride. That just made me laugh.
The day sparkled outside. All the doors and windows were open and a cool breeze blew in.
The bulldog snored next to me.
The music stopped.
Damn the wifi.
The phone rang, but there was no one there when the machine answered it.
The music started again.
I didn't realise how many of "those" calls I got, until it started interfering with my music.
The music stopped again.
Another one of "those" damn calls. Grrr!
The phone rang. Nobody there… again.
The music started again.
“Woman is loser…”
I patted my expanding stomach.
Buddy is such a cuddle bug, many times during the afternoon he will come and get in my arms and have a big hug.
We went to Woollies. The deli guy said, number 7. There was an audible tone from all present, what? Yes… drum roll… Fitzroy Woollies Deli numbering system worked for the fist time in the twenty four years that I have been purchasing goods.
Sam made crepes stuffed with leak and mushroom and bacon. Yum.
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