I was up at 7.15am. I’d cleaned the kitchen and made coffee and rolled a joint by 7.50am.
Then I let Buddy in, he was waiting by the door.
Sam was up before 9am.
We took Buddy for a walk. It was a glorious sunny morning. We met a Pomeranian at the front gate. Buddy was too interested in all of the new smells there were to smell. He was just starting to check emails as Jackson Wag so humorously stated. We didn’t meet any more dogs.
We met a group of bike riders at the café on the corner of Johnson that has the dog drinking bowl, where we stopped for a coffee. Buddy didn’t get it at first and it was a struggle to get him to pass through the Lycra clad blokes. There was a gaggle of guys and you know Buddy, he just wants to join in on the conversation. He really does get into the middle of a group and look up as if he is saying, So, what are we talking about guys?
Mark and Luke went to Jeff and Raymond’s place for a BBQ and then they headed down to Torquay to pick up Jay. Then, I think, they were going to the movies. I pick up details from snippets of conversations I hear from Mark and Luke, as they aren’t so forthcoming with what they are doing. Funny ex-boyfriends, I have to tell them to the minute what I am doing, but it isn’t reciprocated.
Shhh! Don’t tell anyone, but Sam isn’t mad about them coming to stay.
“It’s all take, and no give in return,” Sam says.
We joke about Mark and Luke taking my car, you see, because I don’t drive it much, instead walking most places I want to go, one of the reasons for living in the inner suburbs, my car is always full of petrol, I don’t try too hard to make that happen, it just is. When Mark and Luke take the car, it always comes back empty, with the petrol light on. Mark never fills it up again, never returns it with a full tank. Sam and I joke about not having enough fuel to get it to the petrol station. Oh, I don’t care, whatever, ex-boyfriends, that is what they do.
Sam made potato cakes from the leftover mashed potato from last night. They were good too.
Sam put up one of the black cum rags as a hand towel in the kitchen.
The essence of style, black cum rags. And as that girl said to me in Degraves Lane that night when I was taking a break from studying. “You must be a man after my own heart, with a long mac, and soft pack stuyvies” and regular filters on your joints, I would add. Add to that black cum rags for guests on which to wipe their hands. I’m not sure what Sam was thinking, not that it mattered, they were clean, they weren’t pulled out from under our pillow, you understand.
It was a lovely sunny day.
I repotted some of our succulents.
We did the washing.
We had a pressed sandwich for lunch.
During the afternoon, I rolled joints and Sam slept them off on the couch behind me, as I renamed and culled my photo collection. I’m renaming all of the street scenes in the collection to include the names of the streets and suburbs.
We walked to MaMaNee for diner, we had to be there before 6.30. We didn’t even have to go to the supermarket on the way back
Mark and Luke and Jay got home on dusk.
I can’t remember what we had for dinner. Usually, it would be a papaya salad and a red duck curry, or a yellow chicken curry. They also do sensation fried chicken.
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