Virtually none of the owners turned up, which made me buzz with excitement thinking it could only lead to a short meeting. This is unusual, as normally all the owners are there, with a couple of them always banging on about how beautiful the townhouses were when their mothers were living there attending to the garden. Oh, shut the fuck up, please! Thankfully they weren’t there.
Neither was the guy who I am sure is involved in organised crime. He is never in his place, he spends most of his time OS. He has shifty eyes and can never really explain what he does. Or why he is nearly always behind in his payments, or why, sometimes, he is way ahead.
Oh, I don’t know?
Thankfully, it has little to do with me. I just sit on the side lines like Barbra Streisand at the poker game in Funny Girl.
We ate Nepalese food in Sydney Road.
Sam has been on about buying a large TV lately. I have fended off the idea successfully for some time, not wanting a cinema for a lounge room, but it seems I am now losing the battle.
We went to Harvey Norman in Preston on Bell Street to look at big TVs. Sam gets chatting to the shop assistant straight away. I still don’t know about a cinema screen in the lounge room. I start texting Jill instead of listening to Sam. She, of course, is no help, she says she wishes she knew we were going TV shopping, she would have come too. Sam is walking between TVs with the shop assistant. He is giving me looks. There are lots of screens, it is all a big mind boggling. I keep chatting to Jill. Sam gives me exasperated eyes. Suddenly, he is walking off. I follow. He has cracked the shits and is heading to the car, because I was, in his considered opinion, bitching to Jill on messenger and not taking the giant TV buying seriously.
So, good job, no giant TV to ruin the lounge room. Bad me!
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