Going To Get The Car

Jill and I head to Essendon to get my car. I tell Jill as we are heading over that we were going to Satan’s lair. She gives me side eye.

“Who?”

“You know?”

“I thought you were keeping better company?”

“What can you do?” I say. "When the houses plummeting from the sky keep missing him?"

We both laugh.

“I don’t have to go in, do I?” says Jill.

“Nobody is going in?”

“I don’t want to go in?”

“You don’t have to,” I say. “That is why we are going early.”

“I’m just saying…”

“The fork tine puncture holes playing up?”

She rubs her forehead. “Only when I am around him…”

“Like Harry Potter’s lightening flash around Voldemort.”

“Like Harry Potter’s flash when Voldemort is around,” says Jill.

The sun shines. It is an easy drive. It is very exciting, I hadn't had to do this for years. Jill’s off to Queensland, she is driving up with a friend and Bear, of course. I was supposed to drive up with her, but I accidently got a job. “Damn your pesky job,” she says.

“Weren’t you supposed to get a job too?”

“Yeah, something like that,” says Jill.

“We were both supposed to get jobs,” I say.

“What can I say?” says Jill.

“You’ve let the side down?”

“How about, I’m going to the beach.”

Grrrr. “I’ll think of you when I am dashing through the cold streets of Melbourne Monday morning.”

“Do,” says Jill.

My favourite red brick church is on the way. Favourite architecturally, not spiritually, you understand. I am partially to red brick buildings. It was empty, by the look of it, anyway. The collapsing Christian congregation, it is a good thing. So many less stupid people hoodwinked by mythology. It can only lead to a better society. Freedom for all.

I feel okay, but I wonder if I am still over, as my car fires into life. You know, as people still are. Is it called the Sunday Morning Effect? Shrug. The sky is blue, the sun is bright. I feel chipper, none the less. Surely, the police have better things to do this morning.

Jill follows me home.

We drive home along Park Street Brunswick to see if any of the houses were for sale. None are. I want to move there one day when the inner suburbs get too chaotic. Thank you Matthew Guy for ruining the inner suburbs with your unchecked approvals for property developers.

We eat breakfast at Arcadia. Jill, and I, have pancakes with berries and mascarpone cream. Sam has some sort of Mexican Wrap with beans and guacamole, which looks healthy. And coffee, of course there is coffee.