You Are Trying to kill me

The morning was all backward. Sam got out of bed, and I stayed in bed. Usually, I am the first one up, but only by seconds, as I am on the getting out side of the bed. The next thing I knew there was heavy breathing and then jump and sneeze in my face. Buddy. I wrestled him over onto his back – not, actually, that hard to do – on Sam’s pillow and rubbed his tummy and kissed him.

I came downstairs and Sam said he was having BreadTop for breakfast, he hates cereal and he was going to have a shower and he expected his coffee to be complete by the time he got back. I got my laptop and settle next to Buddy to look at Facebook at the coffee table in the dark of the morning. Buddy has the best fur, it is kind of tough and muscular like him.

Sam said he was going when I was in the shower and I was to feed Buddy. Then he was back saying that he fed Missy with the chicken wing, which I’d forgotten to do and he’d fed Buddy and put him outside for his own protection because he wanted the chicken wing, too. “Good bye, kiss kiss.”

It was overcast and the rain was beginning to fall in sparse drops, as I backed out into my street. The day was grey.

There was a cute beige Frenchie crossing over at Gertrude Street with its 2 owners.

There was a guide dog in training on the cnr of Smith Street, a blond Labrador puppy, just lovely.

Dogs ahoy!

There was a bloke adjusting himself on the cnr of Smith Street outside a bar named barry. He was having a good tug at it. I could see he had it in his hand, squeezing it.

There was another guy at the cnr of Oxford Street, standing on the new road island in the middle of Langridge Street, also having a good feel of himself. He was trying to satisfy an itch, but he wasn’t trying too hard, it was just something to do until the traffic cleared and he could cross the road.

Two of them within one hundred metres, it must be the morning for it, I thought. I was just minding my own business, good morning world.

There was lots of traffic, there were cars everywhere. I had to wait an inordinate amount of time to get out onto the boulevard, that would be Victoria Crescent. I always think of it as a boulevard, but I guess it is even crescent shaped. But Victoria Street was clear.

The lollipop lady was, again, chatting with her friend. Surely, that is a job the upwardly mobile stressed out mother’s would expect the old girl to take seriously. I’m sure the would-you-mind-smoking-somewhere-else-mother-with-the-sick-kids would have something to say about it.

There was middle aged Guy in white overalls on a bike, grey hair, hairy chest, overalls unbuttoned to his navel, like something from Magic Mike, riding towards me in the gusty morning, not a care. Quite frankly, it made me feel cold. It made me laugh too. He didn’t seem to care about the conditions. I wondered if there was a hidden camera crew, he looked like something out of one of those corny 1950’s romantic comedies. I half expected to hear some Italian accordion music, with strings in the background.

No junk food – but I’ve been so hungry since I quit smoking. But, today is no junk food day. I looked fat in the mirror last night at Jill’s place. I just don’t seem to be able to get away from it, the hunger. I know smoking is an appetite suppressant, but really? It has never been like this before, I tell you. I just seem to be hungry the whole time.

Maybe, I just need to drink more water?

Maybe? I need to do something? I don’t know?

I ate my chicken and coleslaw… and I just ate a boost bar. Bad Christian!

I’ve been washing my lunchbox, at work after I have eaten. You see, I hadn’t been, I’d just been giving it a cursory wipe. Sam has been putting the lunch together, in the evenings, thinking I’d been washing my lunchbox, thoroughly, but I hadn’t. I just thought it would get washed at home, I’m not sure by who, now that I have had it pointed out to me. I didn’t realise that Sam just filled them again thinking that I’d washed mine out, as he does his. Oops. He said that I was trying to kill him, when I told him.

“What do you mean? It is my lunch box?”

“I don’t strictly give you back yours? Do you think that? They get mixed up.”

You see, they are both red.

“Good grief,” he said. "You are trying to kill me.”

He is a little more strict about such things. I am, what he’d said, is more “loose” with hygiene. Now I am much more careful with such things, since my lassie faire attitude has been pointed out to me.

We ate at Yim Yams for dinner.