I dreamt of us all milling around the doorway to an apartment block, maybe a block of holiday apartments. Dad and Uncle Al sat by the doorway, Uncle Al smoking a cigarette.
I made coffee for both Sam and me, as it was nearly 7am by the time I’d finished making mine.
Sam and I walked to work together at 7.50am, down Gertrude Street, it was one of those lovely crisp grey, overcast mornings.
I have stopped paying mum’s bills as I have run out of envelops in which to send the payments. However, as it is the 1st of the month, I need to pay mum’s twilight home bill, so I need to buy envelopes. I can buy them from the post office, however, the post office doesn’t open until 8am. What was I to do? Wait outside the post office for 10 minutes.
“Go to work and then walk to the post office,” said Sam. “Duh!” He put his fingers to his forehead, then raised them to the sky.
Yes, of course, I could do that. Go to work, set myself up, then head to the post office. F won’t be in, if she is in at all – she must be due to be working from home – I should be able to head to the post office and back without anybody knowing that I left work at all, so that is what I did.
The workmen working on the 4th floor were again trying to stuff some large sheets of wood grain panelling into the small lift and I had to stand there waiting for them to get it done. TUM DI DUM! Strum the fingers. Get on with it you blokes. Not a pretty one amongst you. Not even a butch glimpse of bum crack to make the wait worthwhile.
Ah finally.
Fatguts Carol Brady, naturally, (I’m sure she doesn’t have a life) and, soon t be retrenched, Jackie were in. Turn everything on and then out the door again. The workers were still faffing about.
I raced across Victoria Parade dodging the traffic heading to the post office. I should have bought the new card for mum’s bank account, I’d only just looked at it this morning when I was writing the cheque for mum’s monthly accommodation. I need to pay all her bills, I’ll need stamps and envelopes, which I wouldn’t have to pay for if I had the card. I could always take money out and repay myself, but I wouldn’t have to do that if I had the card. I should go and get the card. It was 8.10am, F is probably not likely to be in in the next 20 minutes, I should go and get the card. So I did, I changed directions and headed off towards home.
The card was on the coffee table where I left it.
The post office didn’t have the large packet of envelopes which is what I wanted, only the small packet.
I got back to the office at 8.40am, riding up in the elevator with Andrea R, sensible Andrea.
I was sweaty from all the walking. Fanning is good after that. Sitting at my desk fanning myself with cardboard or paper. Shoes off.
Fatty got in five minutes later.
I had Talk-Like-A-Demented-Parrot-Sibella squawking away at her pod nonstop with her nails down a black board tone. There is something wrong with her, she never stops talking, never. It is more than a double X. Either she is no good at her job, and she is faking it, or she has an inferiority complex a mile wide.
I had Jay-Austin-the-most-boring-man-in-the-world talking with his nonstop monotonous, incessant phone speak hum grinding away nonstop to my left. The man could replace sedatives. He is the embodiment of flat line. He paces backwards and forwards speaking on the phone, as if standing still just wasn’t annoying enough.
The two most boring voices met at my desk in a harmonic that could melt toxic waste, so thanks to lovely Sam, I had my head phones to pop on.
Some people really like to talk,
They must think
they are interesting,
Or important, or something.
Sadly the incessant talkers are
Rarely any of those things,
And deep down, I think,
They know it.
So do the rest of us a favour
And get therapy,
Stop making us all pay
For the infrequency
of you mother’s touch,
or the absence
of your father’s love.
Heal yourselves,
And Stop taking us all daily
On your mindless journey.
I worked away on stuff, autonomously. I do what I like, F never questions me. I finally got my super balanced and up to pay. Oh the pain. I never thought I’d get it finished.
If I didn’t have that, I’d probably have Novembers one done today, instead of having to do it tomorrow.
Mark called to say Mini had left Fen (Mark's son) and that Fen was now raging against the world.
“Be careful if he turns up at your place,” said Mark.
“I doubt that.”
“I know,” said Mark. “But it is good to know.”
I agreed.
Apparently, Mini told herself that if Fen made her feel scared again she’d leave. Last night he did, so she left, when he was dosing on the couch. She said to April,
“Mummy left something in the car, come out and get it with me.” April fortunately followed. Mini got in the car and drove off.
Soon enough, Fen started texting asking where they were. Then he called and started abusing her over the phone, screaming at her threatening her. As it turned out, Mini was at the police station and she handed the phone to the Sergeant and Fen continued to scream at him, thinking he was still talking to Mini. When he was done, the sergeant told Fen either he comes down to the police station, or they would come and get him. Fen went down to the police station where he was told that Mini had taken out an AVO on him. Fen broke the AVO by texting Mini telling her he was going to kill her, consequently he had to go to court today and they let him off with a warning. Apparently, with AVOs they let you off with warnings for the first few breaches. Meanwhile Mini lives in fear. She has gone to stay with her sister, who has just moved and Fen doesn’t know where the sister has moved to.
The saga of the mental stepson continues. Apparently, he has been importing steroids from Thailand and injecting his own special mix in the ten years I have been estranged from him, so nothing has changed.
I’m glad Mark and Luke live so far away while this is happening.
I went for a walk for an hour after work. I made sure the back door was locked before I left. I started to feel a bit hungry by the time I was three quarters of the way around. My bladder began to speak to me as I neared home. Sam called me again from the dog park as I was coming up my street to home.
“Come to the dog park,” he said.
“I really need a piss though.”
“Find somewhere,” Sam said.
I cut through down Greaves Street and found a lane, off which I found another lane. There are always obscured lanes in Fitzroy if you hunt them out and swinging my other face around, I took a piss. They are always the longest pisses in the world, those nervous pisses, in laneway up against a wall. I felt better, as I crossed over George Street and headed down Charles Street to the dog park.
There was a Pug and a Pekinese, with a crew cut called Theo, harassing dogs like a little team of thugs. Too cute they were, as they jumped all over the bugger dogs. The white Border Collie was there. And everybody loves Junior.
“Bulldogs are so charismatic,” said the overly friendly chatty lady.. I know, I thought. It brings a small smile to my mouth when I hear it though.
We ate chicken wraps for dinner.
Sam had been to the Dick Smith Sale. He’d bought 2 tablets, of varying sizes, another phone, I have no idea why and a small Cannon camera. He really needs to be supervised when there is a gadget sale. The camera was for me, $99. It is 12 megapixels and can down load images wirelessly to my laptop. I thought it would be a waste, as I only ever use my phone, but maybe not.
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