And Here We Were Barely 48 Hours Later Disregarding Everything That Was Decided. Goodness Me

Fatty was away today. Apparently, boy fatty, who is home from hospital, didn’t want to be left alone, so Fatty stayed home to comfort him. He had an infection that turned his leg red and then very dark and swelled it to the size of an elephant, before they hit on the right combination of antibiotics, which bought him back from the brink just in the nick of time. It was all a bit desperate there for a time, but now the crisis is over.

But, as you know, it made no never mind, I like working on my own, so I was more than happy. Poor Boy Fatty.

I text Mazz early, telling her to have a great time in Canada. She was on the plane waiting to take off. I told her I was jealous.

I text Rachel, telling her I’d rather be travelling than working. “What do you think it would be like in Spain today? She text back with the Barcelona weather forecast. 18 degrees and sunny. Sell your house and go travelling, she said. She’s probably right, but who is that brave?

The day was so lovely that I walked home to have lunch, just so I could head out and walk in the sunshine. I’d, actually, already had my lunch by the time I made that decision, but I had the day to myself, so what the hell. It ended up being a two hour lunch, but what the hell, when you get to work at 7am more than one morning in the week.

There is the faint smell of death in our front garden, I can smell it as I come through to the front path. I’ve smelt it just a little, just recently. I thought that maybe Ollie had killed a mouse, or something and that he’d left the carcass in the under growth? Should I forage it out? Find it and dispose of it? What an effort? Why? I was sure it would rot quickly and disappear.

Sam called to say he was in Harvey Norman and that he was looking at the egg-shaped speaker, which happened to be on sale.

What, I thought? We’ve just lived through the great Bose dilemma. Buying it. Tracking its somewhat delayed delivery. Sam bought it last Saturday week ago. He checked on it in Myer the following Monday, after which he could have carried it home. It wasn’t delivered for another week, during which there was much discussion. Then it was decided it was faulty, after much discussion. We only returned it to Myer last Saturday, after much discussion. Then it was decided that our Sound Bar was better anyway. And we were curious about why we ever bought it in the first place. And here we were barely 48 hours later disregarding everything that was decided. Goodness me.

“Should I get it?” asked Sam.

“Are you going to return it next week?” I asked.

“Ha ha,” he said.

I got home just after 4.30pm and had toast and was gearing up for my first walk in sometime, it was so lovely I couldn’t really make any excuses not to go. I haven’t been walking for a couple of weeks. Why? I don’t know. I was about to leave, when Sam called and said he’d bought the new speaker and that it was heavy and that I should walk in and meet him half way and take half the load, so I did.

“Come to Little Lonsdale Street,” said Sam. “It is heavy.”

I headed up Gertrude Street and then up Young Street and through the ACU, passed the storeroom with the misspelled metre door, across the courtyard, which I thought felt lovely, over Victoria Parade, by the fire station and down Albert Street to Parliament Gardens Reserve, where I pissed about taking some photos. Tra la la. The sun shone. I crossed Spring Street, I was enthralled with the historical photos of the Princess’ Theatre in the windows of the Princess’ Theatre for a time. I gazed up at the Little Bourke Street sign when it hit me, I was supposed to be in Little Lonsdale Street. Oops. I quick shot off a text and ran along Spring Street to Little Lonsdale Street. There was Sam standing on the corner with “that” look on his face. He bought his hand up to his forehead then shooting it up in the air, several times.

“A simple instruction,” he said.

“I know, I know.”

“Here, take this he said.” He handed me the large blue bag.

Charlie told him that Bose are shit and nobody is buying them, but the egg-shaped speaker, that was a different story. Bowers & Wilkins. It is English. I said the name over and over as we walked up Albert Street. It sounded like an English toffee company, or some such thing.

When we got to the front gate, I could smell that smell of death, yet again.

“Can you smell that?” I asked Sam. “It smells like death.”

He sniffed the air but didn’t say he could.

“Maybe Milo has killed something? But it just seems to be by the gate…” Oh, it suddenly came to me. The scallops and fish remains from the weekend that were in the bottom of the rubbish bin, that’s what it was.

We ate stir fried vegetables.

We turned the TV off during the evening and listened to the new speaker.

I watered the garden late. It was a lovely night.