Grey Day

I was awake at 5am. It was raining outside. It was cold. The fire had burnt away to two red stars dying in the hearth, not nearly enough to bring back to life.

I built a new fire, fortunately my fire basket had enough sticks in it for kindling and I didn't have to go out in the dark and the cold. The rain stopped briefly around 6am and I ran out and got a couple of middle sized pieces to take the fire to the next level.

It was still dark outside.

I like watching the fire, adding bigger and bigger logs, and watching the flames spread, the fire grow. Loading on more wood and watching that fuel combust into flames.

It is possibly the only thing that I am good at, building a fire. I never fail at it, I can make fire from a few twigs, if necessary. (oh, and a fire lighter pretty much all the time now, but I am quite capable of going old school, with sticks and paper. Don’t test me with a magnifying glass.)

The rain pours down.

Twinkle Toes Bulldog is suddenly gone. I find him at the bedroom door upstairs in the dark. I let him into the bedroom at 6am.

There sounds like people are running over the roof in the rain. I started imagining someone jumping onto the kitchen roof, coming down in the back yard off the veranda roof. Suddenly right there, a metre away. Then turning and running up the garden and across the neighbours and over the roller door into Little X Street.

It creeps me out.

I put Boyzone on. I made a mixed recording from all of the tracks I had on my itunes, which I inherited from Sam. I put it on just to listen to see if I was ever going to listen to it again. should keep any of it?

I feel like I am the only person in the world. Dark on the inside, light just beginning to seep into the world beyond the windows.

I hear Milo come back into the house. I hope he isn’t wet.

Suddenly, I have smoked too much and drunk too much coffee and I get the distinct wobbles. I go and watch the fire. Staring. I lie down with the big, orange cushion. I kind of like Boyzone, it is like being serenaded by blokes. I feel sad about Stephen Gately, not that I had ever heard of him until he died.

I listen to the rain on the roof, it rains heavily. I hear the fire crackle. I push the wood further apart and the red coals glow hot on my left hand side.

I hear the rain stop. I run out into the yard, between the branches dripping with water to get more wood between down pours. I slide the new piece into the gap between the other burning logs. I watch it smoke. I watch it burst into flames.

The fire glows orange right across the hearth.

The rain begins to fall again.

The rain hammers on the roof. I’m glad I cleaned out all the gutters yesterday, was it? In the last few days.

Suddenly, a saturated Milo appears next to me like a ghoul out of the dark. He is so dripping wet his fur was slicked back on his face like a 50’s rocker. I forgotten that trick of cats.

I got a towel and turbo dried him on the carpet in front of the fire. He thought it was a game, he leapt about like a kitten. At least I had one of my animals to curl up in front of the fire with, as he snuggles up against me and purrs.

The day becomes light around 7am.

The lead singer has a nice voice, which is kind of sad, as I think of him dead.

Milo lies between me and the fire, like any cat worth his 9 lives.

I love the feeling of lying in front of the fire, warmed on one side, chilled on the other, as if the heat can pass right through you, sucked through because of the cold.

I turned my laptop around and typed from the other side of the table, now my back was facing the fire.

The sun tries to shine at 8am. Morning sun flutters outside. I hear more rain, the light outside dims. It pours with rain again. The world drips.

The glory vine is crimson treaded through the other vines in the morning sun.

Sam comes down at 8.30. He says the rain has stopped. We run outside and drag the rubbish bins to the street.

The only thing to do on a rainy day, put The Preachers Wife on and listen to the rain fall.

Sam made coffee

I ate muesli with bananas and honey. Basil and tomatoes, tomatoes and olives, crackers and cheese, chocolate and raspberries, orange and chocolate, baked apple and cinnamon, stewed apple and vanilla ice cream, bananas and honey, honey and oats, pancakes with berries, strawberries with clotted cream, all classic taste combinations.

Buddy lies in front of the open fire.

Sam had a telephone interview at 11.30am.

Sam was going to catch up with colleagues for lunch but the weather was lousy, it rained all morning. He was going, he wasn’t going, he was going again, he wasn’t going again. Then he left.

I was to meet him some where at some time. I was hazy, smoking joints with breakfast will do that to you.

I had no idea what I was to do. Have my haircut. Fortunately, Sam text me that said, “have a shower.” So I did. Then he sent me another text, “Leave Now.” So I did. (chuckle)

I don’t remember walking into town at all. Some where I bought egg tarts. I slid down Bourke Street under the huge trees, into the Tivoli Arcade, dark and black, into the salon with far too many mirrors for anybody to be in any way comfortable. As I got to the door, the hairdresser pointed to the seat in front of her. I hurtled through the occasional furniture and thud into the chair. I mumbled, “Short on the sides and a bit longer on the top.” So that is what she did. I never give them clipper sizes, too easy to mess up really quickly, at least with scissors there is some wiggle room.

That must be the most uncomfortable moment in my month, sitting in the hairdresser’s chair staring at myself, for that long, relentlessly. It is thoroughly uncomfortable, fortunately I was so stoned I nodded off without any embarrassment.

When I looked up, Sam was standing behind the hairdresser. He went to the toilet, out a secret squirrel door in the arcade. Then we were walking home eating green tea ice cream.

My exboyfriend wrote me an email.

The last few months have been tough. Today I found out the lymphoma has returned in a more aggressive form. Means a new intensive chemo treatment. 3 days in, every 3 weeks for 3 cycles, stem cell harvesting. Then a month in hospital at least for the final knockout and near death experience in isolation

We gave in and watched teev around 4pm, always a bad sign if the teev is going on, I have always felt. We lay back in the lounge room and watched all of our recorded shows.

We ate spicy chicken and rice for dinner.

Sam played school ma’am, waiting to catch me with my eyes closed. “Okay, off to bed.” Clunk! Off goes the TV. Finger pointing in the direction of the bedroom.