It was hot all night. The house was hot. Sam, Buddy and I slept in the bedroom together with the air conditioning going. Buddy is so cute, he started off on his mat in the corner, but that didn’t last. He was soon on the bed lying with his head on a pillow stretched out, as comfortable as you like. Too cute. Sam took up the other half of the bed. I got the outer edge to cling to, like a ringtail possum on a tree branch.
No, no, don’t mind me.
We were slow getting out of bed this morning. We all clung to the clean bedclothes. Buddy his pillow between his paws, Sam his pillow between his paws, me the doona. Morning came too quickly. We collectively groaned. It was a slow morning, the house was like a sauna, which always slows you down. Well, it does me. I wanted to stay home, but that is not any different to any other morning. We were late leaving the house. The house was stuffy, airless. It was hard to dress without sweating. My shirt was stuck to my back as I left the house.
There are some sad slappers on the road, I tell you. I’m sure it is the “fearful” thing. Conservative politicians ethos keep them scared and they’ll look to the politicians to look after them and they will buy things to make themselves feel better. And that of newspapers, keep them nervous and they’ll buy more news service product to find out how bad the world around them is.
I was coming down Victoria Street in the left hand lane, which makes the punters nervous. They don’t like it when you drive down the left hand lane, they are scared you will cut them off. You don’t need to cut people off, however. I don’t need to I am a smarter driver than that. There is always an opportunity to change lanes whenever you like, when some other driver isn’t concentrating. (There is always some dope who isn’t on their game, you just have to watch out for it) But it is what they are fearful of you doing. It is what they think you might do. Cut them off, out smart them, I guess. It makes them look like fools, I assume. Their plebeian competitive spirit fires into action.
Suddenly this slapper in a white Toyota Corolla was tooting me. (is it just Corolla drivers?) I looked in my rear view mirror and she was nowhere near me. Really? I thought. Idiot! Then we got to Church Street and she had to pull in behind me. I looked in my rear view mirror at her and thought, you stupid cow. She had lips of string. She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. Her eyes were wide, as if she was desperate to say something to me. It was as if she was trying to out stare me. And she had a bad hair style.
I laughed at her and she tooted again.
The lights turned green and her competitive spirit cut in and she tried to race up on my right hand side. Enough, I thought. So this time I cut her off deliberately. And, you guessed it, she tooted again. I took no notice of her, again, until I was turning right into Burnley Street, when she went roaring by. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaaa,” sounded her horn.
Oh die bitch, I thought. Go be scared, fearful, uptight some place else. Really? Please tram, as she is looking in her rear view mirror basking in her victory over me, take her out.
Oh the new boys in the Sales Dept. Two new guys who have started recently in the Sales Dept were sitting in my seat in the lunch room. Rude! I thought. I sit in the lunch room and write my journal on my laptop at lunch time. Just me. Nobody else sits at the kitchen table, no, never. But, you know, it isn’t my kitchen, even if the Sales Dept have their own more spacious kitchen and my the one they were sitting in is the finance kitchen. Still, the two of them were pretty cute, one was a very nice piece of arse, so what can you do? One was a strapping wog boy and one was a hot Asian boy. I perved on them while I was heating my lemongrass chicken. Handsome face, sexy arse. I imagined them both in their jocks. As I was picturing the thickness of the wog boys shaft lying sideways in his underpants, he looked up, smiled, and winked and nodded. Are you telepathic, I thought.
I guess I should be ashamed for objectifying them so, but that is how the world turns. We seem to be forgetting this in the 21st Century. We want to fuck each other, so that is how we look at each other, mostly. We are supposed to want to do exactly that. It is called the continuation of the species. It is a point the modern woman seems to be missing now a days. No seats in the kitchen, so I had to sit outside, which probably isn’t a bad thing. One becomes a mole if one isn’t careful. Indoors all day. I’m sure it is good to get some sunlight on the skin. Actually, I know it is, as the doctor told me with my recent blood test.
“Your vitamin D levels are low.”
“Oh, really doc,” I replied. “Low vitamin D and a shitty liver?”
Grrrr! Eat less fat. Do more exercise. And no doctor I don't drink. I actually don't drink at all. Now that is two liver tests and two doctors who don't believe I drink. Still, neither of them have seemed so concerned about it. Still, I must look into this “liver thing” little further. Take responsibility of your own health, it is what I always say.
I sat outside on the tables and marvelled at the changing weather in Melbourne, looking at the grey sky, feeling the chill in the air. I liked it. The cool. The grey sky. The cool breeze. It made a change to yesterday. It made a change to huddling around the air conditioner last night.
My lemon grass chicken was fantastic.
No comments:
Post a Comment