Lazy Work Wednesday

Apparently, if you put your dog shit in the bin it goes to landfill and causes methane, I read recently, adding to green house gasses. Oh, that is disappointing, I thought, as the rubbish man has been taking away my dog's shit for years.

In the long, distant past, there was a bin left on the front footpath that nobody claimed. It just sat there and sat there for months, until one day I had the bright idea to claim it and put my dog's shit in it, and I have been doing that for years now, and the council has been collecting it.

The article I was reading didn't actually give what you should be doing with your dog shit? Other than, if you compost it, you shouldn't put the compost on edible plants.

Good thing we are past the point of saving ourselves, climate change wise, I think, we're done, we didn't fix it when we had the opportunity, as I justify what will be my ongoing actions with the dog shit collection.

I think if people put as much effort into climate change as they do these pointless Save Gaza rallies, or Trumpian style political rallies, or self driving cars, or robots, even, we may just save the human race, but nobody seems to get that passionate, not at all, about the most clear and present danger of climate change.

Oh, of course, some people do, but they are effectively ostracised by the community for disrupting their travel to work, or getting in the way of their shopping outings, or are branded 'radical' by the anti-climate change forces. (and we all know that 'radical' is the antithesis of conservative belief)

Climate change protesters are more likely to be called nut jobs than saviours, funny how that works?

I wonder how history will view them? Much more kindly, I would suspect.

The New Fridge Arrives... Finally

 9am. The new fridge arrives. Yay. The guys are no nonsense and get straight to work. They get the old one out, by taking the lounge room door off by unscrewing it at the hinges. And they get the new one in, obviously, the same way. Sam supervises, I continue to work and it is all done in no time. The dogs are locked in the front hallway, and Otto keeps barking, unusual for a bulldog, as if he is demanding to know what is going on.

Finally, after all this time, the fridge is replaced.

I do work for most of the morning.

I first remembered the gym at 11.30am, a bit late to go before lunch, I think. Ah, there is always tomorrow, is my next thought.

I ate 3 sausages for lunch and some salad, with different types of olives and fetta and sun dried tomatoes and soft, marinated capsicum, my favourite type of salad.

It was an easy day. A bit of work. A bit of YouTube. Just how we like working from home. Oh yes, before you get into me, remember, I signed into work at 5.45am, so I have some time up my sleeve.

2.12pm. I finally get my shit together and I go to the gym. I really have to make myself go. I’d been putting it off today, and putting it off, and putting it off, and putting it off, even with the vague though of doing it tomorrow, but then I’d only have to do it tomorrow, is the thought I kept coming back to.

The guy who runs the place, who signed me up, who looks like Jesus, was in the office at the desk. He walked through the gym a bit later, and his black shorts were so short you can practically see what he was having for lunch.

The big serious muscle bound guy is in the gym. He always seems to be in the gym, I guess that is how you get big and muscle bound. He has what I’d call a weather beaten face. He has his hair pulled up into a bun on the top of his head – actually, does he? That is what I am seeing in my head, but I’m not really sure now if that is true? He is always in track pants, which he always has pulled up high on his waist giving him what resembles a girl’s peach of an arse, rather than a bloke’s square butt.

There is an old guy too, looking kind of desperate, like his doctor has told him to exercise. He has spindly white legs and knobbly knees, which shake a little as he uses the machines. His shorts and t-shirt hand oddly on him as if his body is not used to wearing them. He looks at me like bunnies-in-the-head-lights, or rabbits-caught-in-the-cross-hairs inbetween exercise machines. In my mind, he looks terrified of something, quite possibly the tough of death reaching out to him.

2.45pm. The sad faced chick with her cast down eyes works out in the gym. She has on tight, green track pants that show off her sagging middle-aged arse, the crack in her butt resembling a mouth facing downwards puckered to suck water from a creek. When she has finished in the gym, she gets on the bike next to me with her slumped over style, and permanently defeated expression, just as I’m getting off my bike. I’m always glad when the bike portion of my workout is over, it is the hardest part, the weights are easy.

There is a cute young guy with lovely, luxurious hair who looks like he’s got a hardon in his light coloured shorts. No seriously, I don’t think it is my imagination. He keeps adjusting it as if he is trying to hide it, which just draws my attention to it. And it is impressive. He keeps pulling his t-shirt down over it, but his t-shirt is anywhere long enough to do that.

2:48pm. I’m listening to Bruce Springsteen’s Working On A Dream, a CD I picked up cheap just recently. It’s pretty shit. 

3.11pm. I’m home.

3.30pm. I’m showered 

Sam takes the dogs for a walk, I decline the invitation to go with him. “No, I’m exhausted from the gym.” Even I’m guessing that is not the spirit. Too fucken lazy my still small voice says in my head.

“Ah, shut up,” says my little-miss-evil voice.

I lie on the couch. “Lovely,” says my little-miss-evil voice.

4.30pm. Sam is back from the walk with the dogs, and he then goes straight to the supermarket.

I sign out of work. “Ah, back to the couch,” I say out loud. I stretch my arms over my head for effect.

Sam is back.

I’m lying on the couch. Yes, I am very comfortable thank you.

The sun is shining, it is a lovely afternoon.

 

They were quite partial to lying in the shade of the lovely green MGBV8, which made me a little nervous with heir harnesses being so close to the car's paintwork, but I am sure we were okay with that.

 

It was nice, the sun shone. The bulldogs enjoyed it. They liked the shade and the cool of the grass. We looked at the cars. We drank coffee and ate muffins at the cafe. A nice time was seemingly had by all. Nice to get out in the fresh air and enjoy the day.

Car Show

I've got a car show to go to. I'm entering my car in it. It is a part of the car club I belong to.

Oh, but I am so slack. The last one I went to last year, I didn't even clean my car and it looked kind of shabby, as you could well imagine. Did I feel embarrassed? Not as such, I don't get embarrassed by such things, I really don't care enough. But, I did note the um, perhaps disappointment, in myself, I guess. I could have done better, as a purely intellectual thought.  

I am so lazy. How did I get that gene, when, in fact, I come from a family of, I guess what you would call, high achievers? I'm the black sheep, I guess.

I really find it hard to give a fuck, about most things, I'd say. It is an equal blessing and curse. You know, there were occasions I should have cared more, oh yes there were, but also I've never been one to stressed out about stuff. Good and bad.

Things in life are really so less important than most people will make them out to be, for the most part, don't you agree?

Anyway, the annual car show is on again, so yesterday, I pulled the car cover off my beloved GTI, and I dug the old tins of car polish out from under the kitchen sink. One of them was past credible use, and I tossed it, but the other was good to go. I briefly wondered what the use by date would be on it, you know, like pulling a bottle of pills from the medicine cupboard that says good before 2017, or the tartare sauce from the back of the fridge that says best before 2021.

And I started to polish.

Pretty quickly, I had to reluctantly agree that the car needed a wash first, so I stopped polishing and did that first. 

Sam was standing by the back door with his new white apple goggles on looking like a personal robot and I was able to yell out to him, "Can you turn the tap on?"

"Can you turn the tap off?"

"Can you turn the tap back on again?"

Repeatedly, which helped speed up the washing process.

You’d think that might have been annoying, but it didn’t seem to annoy him, he was too busy lost in looking like something from Doctor Who in the garden. Note to self, get one of those pistol grip hose nozzles that one can switch on and off.

Then we headed out for lunch while the car dried.

I got to polishing it with the very convincing red cream, the colour of the Australian deserts, as soon as I got back, and really quickly my right arm began to ache and I was left wondering what the hell was I doing this for anyway?

Jesus fuck me Christ this is hard work. And I cursed not going to Bunnings to get an electric polisher before I started. (Not that I actually thought of that before this point)

Anyway, it was a gorgeous afternoon, the sun shone, the sky was one unending blue title overhead. I listened to little retro Gnarls Barkley as the muscles in my right arm screamed at me to stop this ridiculous nonsense.

I kept going thanking my good sense to buy a small car rather than a large one over which to fan-girl.

And before long I was done. And the car looked good, even if I couldn't, exactly, tell with it now in the shadows, but I am pretty sure it did. It felt lovely and smooth as I ran my fingers over it.

Of course, I was going to clean the inside as well, I had all the best intensions when I stared, cleaned inside and out, but when I was done with the outside, I truthfully couldn't give enough of a fuck to start on the inside. Nobody will be looking inside it anyway, it is not that kind of car show. It is just a presentation of members cars, there is no judgement involved, so what the hell.

End Of The Week Rain

The rain falls, this morning. It is melancholy in itself. Some say it is romantic, the sound of raindrops on a tin roof. Maybe, it is, maybe it isn't. Milo cuddles up to my left leg on the couch, while he gets time with me without the bulldogs bullying him, with me under the pink blanket having drunk my coffee. 

It is early, of course. It has just turned light outside. That is after I have been up a while. 

I'd taken my antibiotic, which I have to take on an empty stomach, at least half an hour before food. The chemist specified not to take them with milk. So, I can't make coffee for half an hour, which is a heart ache first thing in the morning, let me tell you.

I listen to the rain falling on the roof and I think about having to make my second trip across Fitzroy to get my pills. Oh, please, I think when the rain starts to fall even heavier. I was happy about riding to the chemist to get my extra box of pills, but I am suddenly not happy about it if it is going to continue raining.

Don't make me drive, I think.

I ride everywhere I can. I started riding places as a reaction to climate change and it being the very small part I could play. (Truthfully, it was about parking, but whatever) But, It is a much more pleasant way to get around the city, I have since decided. In fact, I have really got out of the habit of driving.

Bike riding & public transport is the way to travel around the city, in fact, Govs should take it up as a transport model. Okay, sure, Melbourne doesn't exactly have the climate for really successful year-round bike riding, but that just means we have to come up with ways where people can. I hear there is an undercover bike track under the new freeway/Westgate tunnel thing, whatever it is called, so there are ways for it to happen.

Anyway, I still have to go and get my box of pills.

The rain can stop now.

Should I go to the gym two days in a row? That would please girl trainer? But, since I am not going to see her face to face any more, what does it matter. The twelve weeks is nearly up, and then I am on my own.

The sun comes out briefly at 9.30am and I smile.

9.45am. The rain pours down again, grimace.

9.55am. The sun comes out again.

10.05am. The rain is falling again.  Jesus fuck me Christ!

It's like a fucking yoyo this rain/sun thing this morning. Damn it!

First Day Off

I ride over to get my script, which I couldn't get yesterday. As soon as I am out on the street talking to David on the phone, about aging, our normal topic of conversation, the sun disappears behind grey clouds and the heat disappears out of the morning. Grrr!

It is cold riding in the day that I now have.

I stop off in Brunswick Street to get a muffin, I'm not really sure why, but it was on my mind to get one. My usual muffin shop has no raspberry muffins this morning, in fact, they have no muffins at all. Grrr!

So, I head back across Brunswick Street to where I tied my bike up, fully intending to ride to the chemist to get my pills, but as I pass the cafe cnr Victoria Street, I spy muffins their display case. So, I head in and get one of those. Mixed berry with white icing.

Now this muffin is a meal in itself. It is not insubstantial to eat, so I decide to walk up to Vinnie's while I eat it, you know, to get through it. I get to Vinnies and I have to sit on the shelf-like window seat they have out the front, to finish it. But, it is hard work to scoff quickly as it is so big and, I have to say, gorgeous, I didn't want to rush it, so I put the still uneaten half into my bike helmet and head into Vinnie's.

Vinnies has nothing I want, so pretty quickly I find myself walking back down Brunswick Street gorging myself on this spectacular muffin, which I only just manage to get finished by the time I get back to my bike.

Now I need a ride, I think to myself.

I'd partly delayed my ride as the nice chemist lady told me to get there after 10.30am, and as it was 10.30am when I set off, so I decided I should take a bit longer just to ensure the pills had arrived, so that was now done.

11.15am. I got to the chemist. Unfortunately, my pills hadn't arrived.

"I'm very sorry about that," said the nice chemist lady. "Would you like me to post them, or drop them into you once they arrive?"

Days off, I thought. It makes me do some exercise riding here, I also thought. "That's okay," I say. "I'll drop over tomorrow to get them."

"Oh, okay," she says.

The sun is shining as I get back on my bike.

I ride around the back of the shops, down Holden Street to Bennett Street, it’s all housing commission around there > Park Street > Ivan Street which is the wrong street, one street too soon, but you know the one thing you can always bank on in Fitzroy if you take the wrong turn, there will be, if nothing else, a lane way to get you through, and there is. Ug gug gug gug gug gug gug over the bluestones to Apperley Street and the bike track. Across Scotchmer Street, where the cars give way to the crossing, across Alfred Crescent where the crossing gives way to the cars, can’t anyone else see how confusing that is? Through the Edinburgh Gardens. Down Napier Street, who knew that was Napier Street. I stand at the pedestrian crossing at Alexandria Parade with a school group, teenagers nearly adults. Standing! Standing! Will the traffic ever stop I wonder? Will the lights ever change? Then it is right onto Alexandria Parade, left into Young Street, right into Cecil Street and then to Brunswick Street.

I go to Sacred Heart Op shop in 433 Brunswick Street. Oh, why not? I'm on the first of two days off, I can do what I like.

I get a Karen Black movie. I contemplate a painting of a woman looking directly at the artist, but decide against it. You are on your bike, you idiot, how would you get it home?

Sam makes wraps for lunch. They are big and I am not hungry after the enormous muffin I'd already eaten unbeknownst to Sam. I should have just told him, but I didn't. It must be some childhood trauma stopping me saying so. He makes me two. I tell him I only want one, but he'd already made it, so he cuts it up and we have half each. 

After that I feel a little sick like I have eaten too much.

It's gym day today, and I didn't go this morning, due to the ride north to get my pills. I simultaneously feel bloated-sick and sleepy lazy-full, but early afternoon I make myself go to the gym. Don't put it off, I say to myself. Just go, it is exactly what you need you piggy pig pig. And I do.

There are a couple of serious gym heads there. They are lifting enormous weights, in-between each exercise they are both glued to their phones. They both seem to walk around in circles as they look at their phones. I wanted to use one of the machines, but one of the muscle Mary's doing circles glued to his screen said he was using the machine and then continued to walk in circles. We are doomed as a species, I think.

By late afternoon, I had everything done, and I lay on the couch waiting for dinner after which I passed out on the couch for the evening. Not exactly sure why that is happening? Perhaps it is the 5am wake up I have been doing lately?

Pay For Pills With Cash

I have had diarrhoea since Saturday. I am sure you probably don't want to know that, but it has been going on for 5 days and that is too long and I needed to get it sorted.

I was up early, 5am. I just wake up early now a days, probably something to do with falling asleep on the couch at night, but I also just get up early now a days.

I make some coffee, of course. I intend to call my doctor when they open at 8.30am, as that is when they allocate the cancellations from the day before. Otherwise, I can't get an appointment with my doctor's practice for 2 weeks normally. I tell him, I am sure that is just great for you and your new Jaguar, but it doesn't do the rest of us any good. 

I sign into their online booking just to see if the cancellations are up on it. There is one appointment available for today, amongst the 10, or so, doctors, at 10.30am, so I take that. Of course, it is for my medical nemesis, the only doctor in the practise with whom I have had difficulties, but it is the only appointment, so what can I do?

I ride my bike to the surgery.

La Nemesis wants me to do a sample and have it tested, but I want more than that. I want drugs to fix the problem now.

I tell him I shit myself, which I had. I forgot, and thought I was just farting, and there was follow through, and it was disgusting. After that pearl of information, he gives me antibiotics, and I am much more pleased with that outcome.

I head over to the chemist to get the antibiotics and a couple of other scripts I had to get filled. 

The chemist lady gets my pill order together, with me paying, and her handing them to me, at which point she says she didn't have one of the boxes of pills and I'd need to drop in tomorrow to pick that box up.

Oh? Okay, I think, as I like her, she's got character and she's to the point, no bullshit. Besides, it'll get me out in the morning doing some exercise on my bike and I am kind of pleased about that fact, more so than I probably should be.

You know what is interesting about using cash now a days? I so often get a discount on my purchases because shops don't have the change to give to me. So, not only am I not paying bank fees, I am often getting a discount.

And it really isn't hard to get cash from an ATM. I hardly ever go to get cash specifically, I normally walk past an ATM somewhere in my travels during the week, and I just withdraw it. It really isn't difficult. We've just gotten out of that mindset.

I started specifically trying to use cash when I saw that the bakery, that I go to more often than most shops, passed on the bank charges for me to pay. And I thought, fuck that. 

Maybe I am more tightarse than most people, but it really takes no extra effort not to pay the banks any more money than is necessary.

Tuesday

I worked all day. It's the end of my work cycle, so I am just pulling all of that together.

We had a meeting, yesterday, and we were reminded about remote working schedules that we spoke about in last week's meeting.

What? In last week's meeting? What discussion? What remote work schedules? I didn't miss any meeting, when did we have that discussion? What are you talking about? How could I have missed that? I know our finance meetings are the best thing since the invention of the sleeping tablet, but... what?

I rode down to see girl trainer in the afternoon. It was 30 degrees, the hottest day this year since winter. It was a good ride. I started out with my hoodie on, because you know sometimes it's not as hot as it seems when you are riding, but that wasn't the case. The sun was hot, I had to take my hoodie off and stuff it in my back pack.

Girl trainer had new exercises for me and lots of questions. We had a great work out. It was nice to see her. It was our last face to face training session. And from next week's catch up we'll go to monthly contact. And after that, we're done. I'm being weaned off like a fat girl with cake.

That was Tuesday.

Monday

It was just a Monday, what can I say. I was at my desk early in the day.

Coffee in hand, do I need to say?

The people weren't too annoying, they weren't too awful all day. We all seemed to just get on with it, yay.

We had our team meeting early afternoon, it is always a snooze, it is always too long. Don't they realise that meetings, aren't the way to go. We all tune out, while the talkative have their say. The ones that are paid to go on, and on.

I signed out early, well, I signed in early in the day. So it was only fair that it was early that I went away.

It was a gorgeous afternoon, the hottest we've had so far this year, post winter, of course. I took the dogs for a walk around 3, and that was me done for the day, as far as work goes, anyway.

And what of today?

I read about Clarkson having his heart operated on. I read about Pocock telling Dutton he's a dope.

The Middle East kept killing each other. Is there any hope?

Tollroads in Australia are keeping us all poor. I avoid them as a matter of principle, the double tax of toll roads stink.

Lydia Thorpe had her say with the king, people should have their say, I think.

The conservatives in Brisbane are telling lies about crime to get the people to vote, there's a surprise.

Celebrities keep publishing children's books at the expense of real writers.

King Conker’ cleared of cheating at World Conker Championships, thank fuck for that.

Elon is still being an overbearing twat.

Steve

I re-potted my 4 maidenhair ferns. I haven't repotted them for a few years. They were really due to be repotted.

They, well, it used to belong to my mate Stevie, he had a plant that used to sit on his kitchen table. It didn't do so well, as maidenhair ferns often don't, so he gave it to me to revive/look after. I have the maidenhair green fingers so it has thrived and in the ensuing years I have divided it up 4 times. 

They make me think of Steve when I think of them.

When Stevie was 18 years old, he was getting ready to go out one Saturday night. He had the news on as he was getting dressed. He was snatching glimpses of the news as he got ready, most likely, if I knew Stevie well, for football results, Stevie was a big AFL fan.

The news came back from an ad break reporting on a car accident in the country, where a car had been hit by a train, some where near Geelong, if I remember rightly. Stevie turned to walk away from the TV to continue getting dressed, but as he headed out of the lounge room, he caught sight of the number plate in his peripheral vision which the TV channel had not pixelated. 

The number plate was of his parent's car. He came back into the lounge room to hear there were two occupants of the car, neither of them had survived.

Stevie had 3 much younger brothers. Steve effectively put his life on hold and he took on looking after his brothers, raising them and putting them through school for the next 10 years, or so. He worked and singled-handedly paid for the brothers expenses, he paid the mortgage, he raised those 3 boys until they were adults.

"I didn't want us to be split up, so I did what I did," said Steve.

I think it was something like 15 years later, his brothers were adults and had jobs and were grown up, Stevie said to them that he was going to sell the family home, which was out in the outer suburbs, a house Stevie had single-handedly paid for, and he was going to move to the inner suburbs, buy himself a house and he was going to restart his own life.

Well, I think 2 of the brothers, with the 3rd brother staying neutral, but effectively siding with the other 2 with his silence, wanted the house divided up into 4 with each of them getting an equal share. They hired lawyers who made it clear to Stevie that they were serious.

Steve was so incensed by his brother's actions that he packed up his stuff and left, saying to them, "It's all yours. And fuck you."

Steve found a lovely partner. He got a job doing something he loved, running a gym, as he was a national sports champion as a teenager, did I mention that he gave that up to look after his brothers.

In his new life, he got to party, he got to have fun, he got to live the life he'd missed out on for all those years.

He really was living his best life.

A few years into his new life, he'd been visiting a friend on the south side of Melbourne. Some time after midnight he got on his bike to ride home, quite pissed. He was riding over, or had just ridden over, one of the bridges that crossed the Monash Freeway and he couldn't remember what happened, but he woke up the next morning on the side of the road blood all over his head. He didn't know if he was hit by a car, of if he just fell from his bike.

Steve was a great guy, he was so funny, he was smart, he was one of the most delightful guys you would ever meet.

For the next few years after the accident on the bike, Steve suffered from worse and worse bouts of depression. He saw doctors who said he'd suffered brain damage from the fall from his bike that night.

Life became more and more difficult for him, until, I think it was October 13th he disappeared. His boy friend was distraught. October 15th, Steve's boy friend was going out, and as he was getting ready to leave, he saw there was some sort of commotion happening out the back of their place, where there was a creek and a kind of park land. There were police, and an ambulance. As his boyfriend left the house, he ran into a neighbour who told him someone had hanged themselves down by the creek.

Steve's funeral was packed, it was literally standing room only. People from every phase of Steve's life attended. The sports guy came and talked, saying Steve was one of the best and that he turned down an Olympic position (to look after his brothers). The things Steve had done, were amazing, and the people who spoke, spoke of someone they loved and adored.

I remember, at the end of the funeral, as we walked out, one of 'the girls' who Steve had worked with turned to me and said, "It was a life that we all could only dream of having."

The maidenhair ferns were now divided into four pots. All the pots were different, not sure why I did that? I repotted them into four matching pots this time, and they form a hedge of maidenhair out by my back door. 

I run my hands through them often and think of Steve, one of the funniest and nicest guys you were ever likely to meet.

I Got Off The Couch

The rain has finally stopped. I make myself go and get changed. Just get up and don’t think about it. Then, I’m heading across to the gym.

I ride the exercise bike first, like normal. A skinny, what looks like a nice Jewish boy in a crop top comes and rides the bike next to me, but he only rides for about 5 minutes, so he is finished again pretty quickly.

Next a chick comes and rides the bike next to me. She spends an inordinate amount of time making adjustments to the bike before she rides it. I get the distinct feeling she is going to chat to me, and I am ready to say to her, “I’m sorry but I’d prefer not to talk.”

When I speak to David later, he questions if I’d really say that.

“Yes, sure I would if I was riding the bike, I don’t want to chat then. Maybe, at a stretch, I’d talk in between exercises standing on the gym floor, but not when I am riding the bike.”

She didn’t talk to me, as it turned out. She had this very strange slumped bike riding style, like she was totally defeated before she started, like she was defeated by life.

11.51am. Fridays must be oldies and chicks’ day at the gym. Every time I look around there seems to be girls with their patooties in the air.

I would have guessed the old thinking on the gym held up, now what was it? I can’t even think what the old thinking was now? Fridays are the quietest because people are now thinking about the weekend, where Mondays are the busiest as people are guilty about what they did, and ate, and drank over the weekend? Or was it the opposite to that? Oh, I can’t remember now. 😬

There were more people exercising that I have seen before, so maybe the theory of it being busy on a Friday in preparation for the weekend stands true. I don’t know.

12:11pm. I leave the gym walking into bright, warm sunshine where the rain appears to have only just stopped as the ground is very wet and the trees are still dripping with rain water.

We ate instant noodles for lunch. I could only manage half, I'm getting used to stopping eating when I am full, yay. It sounds like a simple proposition, hey? But it’s not.

It started raining again. The rain is solid. Incessant. Driving me, everyone, inside. It’s wet. It is just the day for lying on the couch with Bruno and Otto, they are furry and warm.

I start watching Car restoration shows. Handsome Dustin Jennings and his 1923 Franklin model 10 that has been parked for 76 years.

When that is finished, I watch another YouTube channel. I don’t want to move, I don’t move. What else are dogs and days off for?

1.28pm. I spoke to David.

He says he is 98 kilos. He said how unmotivated he is, not wanting to do anything. “I don’t want to even leave home.”

I tell him how I have been going to the gym. I tell him I’ve been losing weight, but I look like a hag as a result. I tell him, “I’m not looking 20 again, though, so I want my money back.” We laughed.

2.22pm. I finished speaking to David.

It is still raining.

2.25pm. The sun comes out. The rain stops. The weather is kind of tropical, warm despite the rain.

I drink Mandarin Juice. I really like mandarin juice. Sam bought mandarin juice. I usually just drink coffee, or water, but Sam has a juice habit, which has worn off on me. It feels like sweet nectar as it slides down my throat.

I look at more car renovation channels on YouTube on the couch. IronTrap and their 1934 sedan delivery, Mortske and his Model A.

I fall asleep. Bruno and Otto snore. Friday day off perfection.

3:36pm. Sam wakes me up to take the dogs for a walk. I am resistant, I am too comfortable, but I have to get a script filled though. We take the dogs for a walk. The rain has stopped. The sun is shining. The sky is full of clouds.

It’s hot/cold, fresh/humid outside. Which makes it t-shirt wearing weather.

3.56pm. We’re in Chemistwarehouse getting pills 💊 and anything else Sam can find, so it would seem.

I’d started to get the wobbles, feels like low blood sugar, or was it too much time lying down, ha ha, and I was going to get an energy drink from Chemistwarehouse, to fix it, but we were just up the road from the muffin shop, so we headed to the muffin shop.

It was raining when we stepped out onto the footpath. We got to the muffin shop. We were going to have a coffee and the muffin sitting out on the footpath tables waiting for the rain to stop, which I though was a good idea, but in the end, we just got the muffin and headed off.

The rain started to fall heavier than it was earlier, not deluging down, but enough in which to get wet. We headed back up Brunswick Street. We stood under verandas and waited for the rain to stop, but it wasn’t stopping. I was eating my muffin, so I didn’t really care. Nyr!

We stopped under verandas all the way up Brunswick Street, but in the end, we ran out of verandas and we walked in the rain for the rest of the way to Gertrude Street, as the rain showed no sign of letting up, with us getting quite wet on the way.

All shops should have verandas, and they probably all did once, but they have been removed in a nod to modernity back in the day, as it would be lovely to walk under covered verandas in the rain. I’d even say it was romantic in an urban expedition kind of way. . Old world charm. Building owners should be made to put them back. Surely there is a sustainability argument that could be argued?

We walked under shelter all the way home along Gertrude Street.

4.45pm. We’re home. Close the door. Rain all you like. I’m home, I don’t care.

Getting My Arse Into Gear

It hasn’t stopped raining since I got up, it hasn’t stopped raining the whole time, seemingly not even for a minute. So, so much for the nice weather that we have been having for quite a few weeks.

It is the kind of weather that just makes you want to stay inside under a blanket on the couch.

I’m lying on the couch with both dogs watching bullshit on YouTube. Bruno crawls up behind my back like a back pack, Otto curls up around my feet and rests his face on my leg. I don't get much more than a third of the couch.

The morning slips away at an alarming rate. 

I have to go to the gym, which I already put off from yesterday. I put Tuesday session off to Wednesday, so Thursdays sessions becomes Friday. And here I am spending too much time on the couch, it is true. The morning, the day, it is disappearing. I feel so unmotivated. Really, nothing. Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

It is just nice lying here. Mark used to say that would be my epitaph.

When I look next, it is 11am. Grrrr! No! Slow doesn't will you. It's funny how time goes faster when you are putting off doing something?

Okay. I’m going. I'm getting up and going. I need to get the gym, get it done this morning. It would be too painful to let it go until the afternoon. Oh no, the morning is the time to get it out of the way.

Okay. The rain has stopped. Now I am going. It's 11am. I’m going now. I am getting up and going. I am dragging my arse off this couch... now.

The New Fridge Is Coming

The new fridge is coming today, so we have had to move all the house around so they can get the damn thing in, terrace houses being what terrace houses are and all. And, of course, they have to get the old one out. The company was very particular about wanting to retrieve the old fridge. I guess it is for an investigation, do you think? Research as to why it failed? Surely, they don't think we, actually, want it. No, I insist you take it away. 

Do they think we are going to put it on eBay?

They say they are coming between 8am and midday. 8am and midday, so when in that time period do we empty the fridge and freezer onto the bench? I ask you? They haven't promised a message when they approach the house. We'll be there in 10 minutes, or some such thing. So, I guess they will just have to wait while we empty the perishables into the bins provided.

We're hoping the delivery guys have some idea on what and how to do it. The spaces are tight in this place. I think I am going to have to remove the lounge room door to facilitate the whole operation.

Anyway, here we sit anxiously with the lounge room pulled apart in readiness, with the dogs sniffing all of the moved furniture as if they are trying to work out what exactly what is going on.

The back door is open, the gorgeous morning air is permeating all of our nostrils. It is sweetly perfumed with everything that is good and great in the world.

The time drags.

Loli inexplicably sends me a Barry Manilow video, Looks Like We Made it. I wonder if Barry Manilow has died, but according to google he hasn't.

Sam regales me with the latest dickhead thing Elon Musk has done/said. The guy is a jerk. I try not to be interested in that first class idiot, but like any good car crash... he wants to destroy the liberal world because he can’t accept one of his sons is a transwoman. Grow up dickhead.

A warm breeze blows in from outside.

David calls me. "I didn't think you were talking to me any more?"

"What?"

"You never answer my calls?"

"Some voodoo gypsy curse has been cast upon me and I am falling a sleep on the couch every night at 7pm."

"What?"

"I think I have developed narcolepsy," I say. 

"Narcolepsy," he repeats.

"This morning, I saw that you called last night. I was going to call you back at 6am."

"Yes, well, good luck with that," he says. "I was having a narcoleptic episode of my own at that hour."

9am. The fridge guy calls. They'll be here in half an hour.

We'd emptied the old fridge into 4 washing baskets. We re-arranged the lounge room so they could extract the old fridge and deliver the new fridge with ease.

6 months of a faltering 3 year old fridge was about to come to an end.

9.30am. The fridge guys arrive. They take the handles off the old fridge. They say the swap over won't be a problem. "We'll just take the doors off if the spaces are too tight."

They were at the truck preparing the new fridge to bring it in. We were ready for the swap. Everything was about to happen. The dogs were barking from the front hallway wanting to know what they were missing out on. All was all nearly over. When the two guys came back in from the truck and said, "Sorry, we have a problem. I'm sorry to tell you this but the new fridge had a dent in the door."

Everyone stop what they are doing. Everything ground to a halt. It was like being on the edge of an orgasm but never getting there.

I nearly said, Don't worry, we'll take the dented door. But as soon as I thought that my sensible voice said, don't be ridiculous.

Everything was suddenly cancelled. "Sorry," the guys said. 

Put everything back how it was. So close.

Now we have to wait until next week when another replacement fridge will be delivered.

Hump Day Arvo

10.15am. I have all the work I have to do finished. I started at 6am, so that’s that done.

10.30am. I manage to stir up Otto as I am getting ready to go to the gym, putting on my shoes becomes a fight for each shoe. He’s adorable, we wrestle on the study floor.

10.45am. I go to the gym. I must stop calling it the grim. Think positively, you are supposed to be keeping this up. You are supposed to be setting up habits for a life time. Is that what girl trainer says?

It is really nice and warm outside. 

There is some sweaty fat guy in the walk-in foyer area yapping on his phone loudly. Another one of the annoying people, I think.

I get on the exercise bike and just as I start to peddle, I realise I’d forgotten my stupid watch data collector thing. Grrr! I’m sure I groaned out loud. I have to wear it so it sends the data to girl trainer. She takes this stuff seriously.

So, I get off the bike and go home and get it.

The sweaty fat guy in the walk-in foyer area is still yapping on his phone loudly. Another one of the annoying people, I think for a second time.

11am. As I head back up the stairs who do I see but the fat sweaty guy, he has taken the bike I usually use, of course he has. I get on the bike next to him, reciting a positive affirmation silently in my head for his immanent death. Take my exercise bike, will you? He says something about the bikes being closer together than they have ever been. I don’t answer.

I’m not really one for chit chat in the gym. I’m there to get something done.

I get peddling.

He’s grunting and groaning and making the bike squeak with his heft. His stomach bulges over his waistband as he peddles, kind of doughy. He’s looking at pokies on his phone, sitting on the display panel of the bike, the phone screen showing the colourful four boxes spinning around continually stopping for a match.

All the guys in the gym were in black. The blonde-haired top heavy guy with the big chest and arms and skinny legs. There was another guy who looked like Sherlock Homes from Elementary, who strode about with big steps between exercises. There was the young curly haired guy who sat in the leg extension machine looking at his phone for hours in between reps the last time I was in the gym.

The guy’s kind of walk around each other in a silent gym dance. They are all there to get a job done. They don't talk, they barely acknowledge each other.

The fat sweaty guy who pinched my exercise bike didn’t do weights after he finished on the bike.

11:53am. I’m done. The sun is really warm outside when I step into it from under the shop verandas. Do I feel good? I try to decide, as I walk home again? Do I? I don’t know.

I ate leftover nachos for lunch.

I get back to work. Not that too much work comes my way, just a bit, it’s intermittent. I find some mistakes, kind of stumble across them, my mistakes, so I fix them.

I wander outside into the sunshine. I water my plants. I watch YouTube for a while.

The afternoon sails away.

3:14pm. We take the Bulldogs for a walk. It’s quite a warm day. It is t-shirt time today, perhaps the first time for the year. That is an ominous sign of summer, now isn’t it? It is sad summer has become ominous, and yet we’re still not taking climate change seriously, not all of us, not collectively.

It’s really warm, the sun is hot, as we turn into Nicholson Street. I’m not sure if I’m ready for hot weather yet. It’s too soon. Do you think that is odd? Maybe it is? I like mild weather. Climate change is real, after all, and summer becomes a threat.

At least there’s a breeze blowing up the street and we walk.

Nicholson Street, we cut across to Brunswick Street to the dog’s water dish for them to have a drink. We cut across to Smith Street to the Japanese Pantry. Bruno keeps lying in the middle of the footpath, as we wait out the front. He doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the cool footpath on his stomach. Otto keeps tying me his lead as I tried to move Bruno. I nearly fall over at one point. I wonder if anyone notices?

Soon enough Sam reappears

Then Bruno, Otto, and I are waiting outside Woolies while Sam  shops. It’s hotter today than any other day, you can feel summer in the air. I’m not ready for hot weather, I might have to take my Bulldogs and head somewhere cool. I’m sweating. Both bulldogs are lying out across the paving.

Some chick just walked into Woolies with a scarf around her neck and fur-lined, knee length boots. What the hell is wrong with her? Perhaps she’s a Queenslander? 

A bunch of people stop and pat the dogs.

Sam reappears and we walk home.

4pm. I’m back at my work desk. A number of problems have been emailed to me, from Brisbane, Sydney and Perth. I wonder if they have conspired to stop me signing out of work early? I chuckle to myself at the thought. I work nearly to 6pm sorting them out. I sign off in time to watch the misery hour.

We eat Japanese pancakes for dinner.

Later, I fall asleep on the couch.

Snoring

I was up early, you know, because I'd slept weird hours yesterday.  5.15am. It's one of the downsides of falling asleep on the couch in. front of the teev in the evenings, as lovely as that is.

I made coffee and signed into work. I tried not to send any emails with 5-something-am as the time, I didn't want to look like a complete weirdo. Ha ha. I guess we all spend a lot of our lives trying not to look like a weirdo, needlessly.

What is it they say? The weirdos will inherit the earth? No, I guess that’s not what they say? That’s just the more interesting take on our dystopian future, I guess, climate change being what it is and what it is going to do to us. I think we are cooked, just quietly, but no one wants to hear that. 

I wonder if the end, when it comes, will be a surprise to us all?

"Why didn't anyone tell us?" You can just hear people saying that, now can't you... as the sea starts lapping around our feet, what you can see of it, that is, through the haze of the poisoned atmosphere.

People will be attempting to sue for compensation, as bits of the sky are falling down on their heads.

I have plenty of time to think when I get up early.

The first thing Sam said to me when he got up was, "Have you been up all night?"

"No, honey."

"Did you come back to bed?"

"Yes, honey."

"I didn't hear you."

"You were snoring so loud the people over the road heard you." I replied.

He looked coy and then headed to the kitchen.

Actually, all 3 of them snore, Sam, Bruno and Otto, it's like some demented chain saw jamboree. Still, I am used to it now. And I wouldn't have it any other way. It's familiar, even comforting. The things you get used to.

I can't help but think that people who are kept awake by snoring are pussies. But then, I sleep the sleep of the dead. Nothing wakes me up.

Tuesday

Tuesday? Sam went to the office. I was home alone with the woofs. Oh, Charlie was home too, so, I guess, not exactly home alone. He left midday for parts unknown. He doesn't tell me what he is doing. I'm lucky if I get a grunt out of him. Twenty year old boys being what they are. The economy of speech is something truly amazing to behold.

I didn't go to the gym. And I ate a coffee scroll thinking I would go to the gym. So, why not? Shrug. Too much fun being home on my own. Would you believe I was enjoying work so much... okay, you wouldn't believe that. How about I was coerced into collecting data on my fellow employees in a top secret spying missing for the CEO? No? Well, no, that's not true either. There are far nastier people in the company for that, you know, take your pick of anyone in HR. Ha ha.

I just decided I'd go tomorrow. No great mystery to it. Why do today what you can put off to tomorrow. I've always said that. Ha ha, to my detriment through life. Actually, it wasn't until I discovered the exact opposite was true that I started achieving success.

Anyway...

I did take the dogs for a walk around midday. The sun was shining, it was a nice day. The two of them ambled along like they had the rest of their lives to get to the end of it, but that is the usual thing. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. 

Of course, Sam insisted on going for a second walk when he got home. I must stop calling Bruno fat.

I fell asleep on the couch after diner, as I have been doing lately. It is like some ancient voodoo sleeping course has been cast upon me sometime around June?

Then I was up half the night because I'd slept half the night, just earlier, on the couch, you know. When I got into bed, I just knew sleep was going to evade me. Sam did his usual trick of falling asleep half way through me talking to him.

"Sam?"

Snore.

I tried to sleep for a while longer, but I knew sleep wasn't coming, so I got up.

Monday Morning

The cows aren't happy. The milk isn't frothing. My morning coffee is ruined. The outlook for today is bleak.

And Monday morning too! It is enough to make you shit!

The coffee tastes dreadful. I check that the milk isn't off, but it isn't. Maybe, it is just that time of year when the cows don't get enough clover, or too much clover, or some fucken thing. All I know is that my coffee tastes like shit! And it is kind of depressing looking down into the cup and it kind of looks grey and oily, if you know what I mean.

Sam said we should take the milk back. I told him I didn't think how it froths is a returnable offence. He shrugged. I should have just gone with it, I guess. Sam tends to get that sort of thing done. Me, not so much. And I could have had good coffee. I could have. Sad face.

Anyway, on with the show, coffee, or not. Monday morning, things to do. Ah, Monday morning with no coffee, it should be illegal.

Lovely Weekend

The last two days we have taken the bulldogs down to the Yarra and thrown ball for them on the large expanse of grass that is the off-lead area by the river. Bruno is ball obsessed and Ottos is almost the same. The two of them have charged up and down after the ball and looked so adorable doing it. Just a couple of matching boof-heads barrelling backwards and forwards in the long green grass. And the weather has been so gorgeous these last two days, this last week, or so, it has been an absolute joy to stand out in it, especially with two beautiful dogs to enjoy.

Yesterday, we bought pork rolls on the way home and everyone admire Bruno and Otto at the pork roll shop. 

One handsome guy was especially impressed, he and his two sons and his Asian wife. He told me the dogs he'd owned and he encouraged his sons to pat Bruno and Otto and not be scared. His two boys will probably be gorgeous when they grow up as half anglo and half Asian kids so often are.

Today, I picked up potting mix on the way home at Bunnings. Our Bunnings has an underground car park, and we took the GTI because it needed a run and someone, par for the course, told me to slow down as I drove through the car park because people can't differentiate between the sound a car makes and the speed the car is travelling. The GTI is loud as it has a sports exhaust. And people are just stupid sometimes as the sound of its exhaust echoed in the under ground structure, I don't know, makes them scared?

A few years ago Sam bought 3 Japanese Maples from a friend of ours who is always trying to scrape a living together. We didn't need 3 Japanese maples, but he bought them to help our mate out. And I have been repotting them ever since, which is why I needed the potting mix as one of them needed a bigger pot.

Now we have two large Japanese Maples, the 3rd one was always smaller, in our court yard, now beautifully potted up I might add, which are lovely, but, you know, who needs 2 large Japanese Maples in a court yard, with a 3rd catching up every year.

We might sell them on eBay, eventually. Maybe. I have sold a couple of plants on eBay that have got too big. We'll see.

Now I have been on the couch watching YouTube, with gorgeous summery air blowing in the back door. That taste and smell of summer coming always makes the day feel lighter and easier.

The bulldogs are sprawled out across the lounge room floor completely exhausted from their park activity.

And that's the weekend done.

Early Saturday

I dreamed I was doing deliveries in a delivery van, one of those small, European vans, like a Peugeot Partner or a Citroen Kangoo. We were delivering parts, they seemed like electronic parts, is that because of all those endless robot clips Sam has been showing me lately? (Sam is fascinated with robots, me, not so much. I can’t really see what good they are going to do, you know, other than playthings for the very rich, or autonomous war machines) But it was the vans that were under scrutiny, that were being watched. ‘They’ were looking for one van in particular and all our vans were being checked to see if it was the van for which ‘they’ were looking. It was all very tense. We all felt like we were being accused of something?

4.45am. I woke up. I had to move Bruno. He had gone to sleep between my legs last night. In the night Bruno and Otto had moved into a position where I was pushed into an S shape. Yes, both 30 kilo bulldogs sleep on our bed now. It wasn’t the shape, although it was that too, it was the temperature of two bulldogs, one snuggled into my legs, and one snuggled into my back, both pushing me so I couldn’t move, contained in one spot, and I was overheating, which is what really woke me up. That and the tension about the delivery van.

I managed to move Bruno and Otto successfully, but by that stage I was awake. I had to throw off the doona to cool down. It was too early, sure, but I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep.

4.55am. I got up. It was still dark outside.

I made coffee.

5am. I was on the couch under the big pink blanket. I don’t really mind getting up early as I always think it is a time when I can write. However...

5.30am. Milo comes in. He’s always really visibly excited when the bulldogs aren’t around. He jumps up on the couch with me and rubs himself all over me. It’s kind of annoying really, as it is relentless. He's manic to get his moment, very un-cat-like, I tell him. I lie down on the couch and fashion the big pink blanket into a nest between my legs and Milo gets in there and curls up. And he is warm, he is soft, and he feels little and delicate.

This morning, I fell into the Facebook rabbit hole until 7am, the hours just disappeared until it was suddenly daylight outside. And no writing got done. I was watching the Facebook shorts, which just keep going, and the shorts kept showing me handsome guys, often in shorts, and Karen Walker, and I couldn’t tear myself away. Is that what social media is designed to do? Distract us from life? 

Okay, 5am there isn’t much life going on, but, I did YouTube, too much yesterday arvo, where I was far too interested in the US election, watching all the clips on Donald Trump like I am watching a car crash to the end. Why is that? We, as a nation, never used to be so interested in US politics. Did we? Is it because it is just such a potential horror story unfolding?

So many wasted hours.

I even bought myself a number of novels, recently, on my Kindle to move away from this YouTube thing, and I must remember them and read instead, I must remind myself to do that. Disappear into a good story, not some mindless nonsense. I know after reading good writing, my writing is so much better, it inspires me, consciously, or unconsciously, I can even feel it as I write.

Reading is listening and writing is speaking.

Anyway, I think we are going to take the dogs for a run down the river.

I should go for a bike ride too, that would please girl trainer.

Then I can lie on the couch guilt free. And isn't that what exercise is all about?

End Of The Week

I took the dogs for a walk early. Of course, dog walkers take their dogs walking early, before work around here. We went early, but not before work early. We went after 9am, after work had begun. A good no-work-today kind of time to go. It was nice, the sun shone, the sky was blue. We walked for an hour.

I got changed and went to the gym pretty much as soon as we got back from our walk. Changed track pants for shorts and changed shoes. I'm still not loving it, not like I did when I used to go years ago, I loved it back then. I'm not feeling it now. But, I go, kind of dutifully. It feels like hard work.

I tell myself it doesn't take long, 30 minutes on the bike to start with, then 30 minutes, or so, doing weights and working out on the machines. A bit over an hour, isn't long. So, I make myself go. And going mid morning, the gym isn't that busy, and I pretty much have little competition for the facilities.

One of the trainers was working out. Big, tall, dark, handsome as you'd expect a trainer to be.

A young blonde guy came in just after me. He looked like only does his upper body as he had that kind of top heavy look to him, like he might topple over at any moment.

At one point, I was doing the cable pull down, and he was doing inclined chest press with dumbbells, he was lying on his back on the bench and I was facing him, and I was having a rest between reps and he was lying with his feet in my direct with his legs spread, and I found myself inadvertently staring at his crotch. Oops. Totally wasn't, meaning to do that, and I looked away. Good thing he didn't notice.

There was a girl who looked like a lesbian who didn't seem like she wanted to make eye contact, with anyone, who took an inordinate amount of time on each machine. She did a lot of, um, periods of, er, just stasis in-between exercising, like her batteries wound down and she had some kind of self-recharge mechanism if she kept still.

The trainer had a female client when I was leaving.

I did fuck all in the afternoon, after 2 and half hours of exercise in the morning.

I listened to Chaka Khan's last album and Labelle's new live album which is hot, lying on the couch for most of the afternoon.

Thursday For Getting Things Done

Day one of my weekend, and even though I stopped my full time filling in stint a month ago, my resumed days off still feel like a novelty. Oh yes, I am aware that really makes little sense, but there you go, that's how it feels. 

Now what did I have to do? Oh yes, I was notified some time ago that my parking permit was expiring. And I had put it aside and almost forgotten all about it. Now when was that? It's mid October, I had better get that done. I guess.

Stingy Yarra Council won't give us a free permit, not like they used to, the first permit was always free, but they have CEO's earning more than the prime minister now a days so they can no longer afford do that.

There are three town halls servicing Yarra and they don't all do the same thing, so you always have to check which one to go to before you go to any of them.

Anyway, it was another gorgeous day, so printed out my form, I made the phone call to check where to go, and I slung my gay little back pack over my shoulders and I got on my bike and rode to the appropriate town hall.

And that was done in no time.

I was just getting back on my bike when Jill called. She wanted to chat, so I found a small park with a bench seat in the sun behind the town hall and we chatted for an hour. That's what days off are for, sitting on a park bench in the sun and letting the day slide away not a care.

Jill went to Queensland for a week and stayed 3 weeks. She's been back a week and she wasn't feeling completely well. She decided to take a RAT test just to put her mind at ease and it came back positive, Yikes! So she has been isolating at home.

She tells me she has lost 30 kilos using Ozempic. So, good for her. I mustn't have seen her for a while, I thought, otherwise I would have notice something, even if it had been in the middle of that reduction, you know, wouldn't have I? I guess it has been a while since we have seen each other in person? Clearly. Mostly it has been phone calls, or text messages, I guess? Lately. Time flies now a days. We're nearly half way through this decade.

It was gorgeous sitting in the sun, so when we'd finished I went for a bit of a bike ride, it was such a lovely day. We've been having lovely days these last few weeks, we really have. Every day sparkling after the previous day that sparkled too.

I rode through Fitzroy and Collingwood and Abbotsford.

I did a little shopping after that. I got Rush season 01, Aussie TV cop show, second hand. And a Robert Altman film with Glenda Jackson, that voice, she died recently, didn't she? I got a U2 concert DVD.

I resisted buying a muffin, as I've been losing weight too. I've seen 81 kilos for the first time since I gave up smoking 15 years ago. Pretty good, even if I do say so myself.

The first DVD of Rush wouldn't play, the damn thing. I don’t know what they have done to it? I took a look at it and it seemed to be filthy with a film of something. I chuckled to myself, perhaps it is lube, I thought, from the previous owner, maybe he used to jerk off to the Rush boys like I used to watching the late night repeats? So, I am going to have to keep cleaning it until it works again.

I took Bruno and Otto for a walk, bumping into a couple of gay guys whose bulldog had died so they were very keen to talk bulldogs. That was sweet. They are contemplating getting two bulldog puppies. Of course, I said they should.

The fridge company offered to give us a new replacement fridge for $250. We accepted just to get it over and done. We are sick of the 6 month saga of the fridge that can't keep things cold.

Mid Week

It was a beautiful day today, the day sparkled, it was perfect, you could feel summer approaching in the air. You could almost taste it on your lips the day was so sweet.

It was a shame to spend it indoors.

I got up early, 6am my normal time, made coffee and signed into work and had everything done before anyone else had started work.

I headed to the gym mid morning. Again, you have to love working from home. I didn't go yesterday, just couldn't get it together. Some days things just get in the way, no matter your intensions, you know what I mean.

There was an Asian guy in a shirt that said 'Korean Army' on the back working with a trainer. In black and white. One presumed it wasn't North Korea, his haircut didn't match that regime. Ha ha. I wondered if they had gyms in North Korea, or would that be too much Western infidel dog's behaviour?

There was a cute young guy all dressed in black with curly hair on the leg extension machine, where he did his reps then he spent ages on his phone, then he did his reps, then he spent ages on his phone. I think he was on the leg extension machine the whole time I was working out.

I can see if you just do weights and no cardio the gym is so much less strenuous. There is a calm sort of rhythm to the weight lifting guys.

There was a very handsome guy in a white t-shirt and pale grey shorts, as clean and as spotless as you like working out quite strenuously who never broke a sweat. You just knew he'd smell of soap.

There was a girl who came in later who worked out intensely on a mat on the floor, like her life depended on it. She had really ugly gym face, like she was in intense pain. It gave me a start every time I looked at her.

I was done before midday.

Work flew by for the afternoon. 

We took the dogs for a walk. The sky was one uninterrupted blue tile overhead. The sun shone down like warm honey. And everything was good in the world.

We ate roast chicken for dinner.

I fell asleep on the couch for the evening.

Just a normal Wednesday.

Ha ha.

And my weekend started.

More On The Fridge

So continuing with the fridge story, they offered us $850 off a new fridge.

Sam told them he wanted the fridge replaced. He said they have tried to fix it over 6 months, and they haven't been able to and, in fact, they still don't know what is wrong with it. And under consumer law, he says we should reasonably expect a new fridge to last longer than 3 years, so they should replace it.

She has gone away to speak to her supervisor.

Sam is having one of his rare days in the office, so I sneaked over to the bakery and bought a coffee scroll, like a kid. It is as big as my head and has so much icing on it that I may not eat anything else for the rest of the day.

I think I need more coffee to wash it all down.

Monday Problems

Monday. I am at my desk. Home desk. I'm getting through everything. I started early. It's not hard. I am nearly done. Good old Monday

Our 4 year old fridge has lost temperature yet again. Actually, this started before it was 4 years old. We called up the services people for the 4th time to get it looked at yet again. The problem is that they send the same service guy and he has already said he doesn't know what is wrong with it. He's been replacing parts/sensors hoping that it will fix it. But it hasn't. And now it is warm again. I mean apart from the problem that that is, it is not safe, all our cold stuff getting continually war.

So, now we are escalating the issue. They have now given us two options, another service call, or a discount on buying a new fridge. They are calculating what kind of discount they are going to give us on buying a new fridge, so we can decide on what option to go with.

The bottom line is that we want it fixed, and if they can't fix it, we want it replaced. Consumer law covers it, the key terminology is that the fridge should last as long as it is reasonably accepted that a $1800 fridge should last. So, would you expect an $1800 fridge to reasonably last longer than 4 years. If it is yes, then the fridge should be replaced. If the answer is no, then no, it wouldn't be replaced.

So, that's Monday. The beginning of the week, with a dodgy fridge.

Sunday is For Reading

It's cold and wet outside - of course, the sun just came out when I wrote that. Naturally. What is that, Murphy's Law? Sods law? Not quite, but almost. Close enough.

It is time to curl up on the couch with Tim Winton's Eyrie and read for the day, for a few hours, at least. I'm not making too much sense of it yet, but I have really just started it.

Bruno and I are cuddled up on the couch together, under the big, pink blanket. I adjust the pillow under my left shoulder just so, and relax into the comfort I am feeling. Bruno wiggles his arse around until he is perfectly lined up to keep my left thigh warm.

But then, Sam comes in and sees Bruno as an easy target to clean his ears, just as we are settled in, and Sam grabs Bruno and squirts liquid into his ears. Both dogs hate having their ears cleaned, but bulldogs are prone to ear infections so it has to be done. Bruno resists and shakes his head and I am covered in dog ear cleaner. It's on my lips like sour detergent, or liquid ear wax, or cum. "Oh yuk!" I exclaim.

Then Otto comes running in as he must have been cornered in the other room and has had his ears swilled out too and he particularly hates it. And Bruno gets up and jumps off the couch taking the big pink blanket with him half way across the lounge room and both dogs run around the room looking for an escape passage. And I am left on my own, now kind of cold, exposed, with incredibly sour lips wondering what to do, trying to wipe the noxious liquid from my lips with the back of my hand.

A Day At The Golf Course

We went to the old Olinda golf course for the day, well, morning. It is now one great big off lead dog park, very cool. Except, at the front where someone clearly insisted that the dog walkers couldn't have it all to themselves and they put in a kids playground, more recently. However, it really is a great place to walk your dogs. 

And the bulldogs loved it. The sun shone for the time we were there, the rain held off despite the rain clouds in the sky. Otto was off his lead for the first time and he made a splendid job of it.

We had a lovely time. It is so lovely, and picturesque. And a great walk, up and down steep hills, good for the legs.

Afterwards we ate lunch in the hills, in Sassafras, beef cheeks and a Ruben Sandwich and coffee, of course. They had cake, I wanted cake, but we didn't end up having cake. The rain fell, but we had huge umbrellas over us and if anything, it was quite nice, dare I say romantic, not exactly, but it had that feel to it. You know, almost cocooned from the effects of the rain falling all around, out in plain sight, in it, not a care.

The Exorcist of God

I fell asleep on the couch, after dinner. I've been falling asleep on the couch every night lately, not really sure why? I've been waking up at 5am, maybe it is that?

I woke up to Sam watching The Exorcist of God and some priest getting strangled by a demonic Jesus. "Oh!" What a way to wake up. I was expecting Gardening Australia. Why do people watch such bullshit, I ask you? I guess, I asked myself.

Then I am half awake and Sam is asking me questions? Remember, Sam was raised a Buddhist. Why do they call priests father? Do nuns always pray to Mary? What is the holy spirit?

"What? Um? Oh? I don't know?" Wiping sleep from my eyes. Father of their flock, I guess. Praying to Mary is a Catholic thing. Who knows what nuns do? The spirit is a part of the holy Trinity.

Then I googled it. The Exorcist of God, not Sam's questions.  

If you are a fan of horror, if you like to be scared, if you like earned jump scares, this is for you. The acting is really really good, the special effects are also well done.

It just seemed like your standard issue god botherer stuff, to me. It just seemed as stupid as religion itself, I thought. All the same old tropes, again, like religion itself. I can't take exorcist shows anymore seriously than I do religion itself. It's all bad fiction. Still each to his own, just like religion.

I wrote my journal, then I wrote my blog.

Oh God! (pun intended) it went on and on and on, heads spinning, green vomit, deals with the devil, the works. It was like a bad zombie movie in the end.

A Glorious Morning

I took the dogs for a walk early. It was an absolutely glorious morning, so gorgeous for a walk. The sun shone, the sky was one unblemished blue tile overhead, and a gentle breeze blew. There was that lightness that you feel on a perfect day. Fresh.

We were just about home, when the old chick from down the street, who I’ve never had a great relationship with, came out of her gate as we walk past. She looked really old, like really old, like she has moved into the death spiral, and she smiled and said something about the Bulldogs being beauties, which is so different to the crosswords she and I have exchanged previously. 

She never liked the fact that Buddy walked off-lead around her two poodles, and she wasn’t backward in telling me. I have been known to tell her to pull her head in.

I've always called her the old bitch. I've avoided looking at her, as you know what they say happens when you look directly at Satan. But today I looked her in the eye and all I saw was sweetness and light. It was kind of nice, if I was truthful.

In fact, she looked so different, I wonder if she is the old chick’s sister, or friend, who is staying with her.

I came home and sat for an hour and wrote a couple blog posts, I had to catch up a couple of days. I headed off to the gym for my workout. I hope I didn't pull a muscle in my groin on the dreaded leg press, I guess I will find out in the next day, or so. Isn't that how those things go?

I'm now contemplating heading into the city to have that haircut that I missed out on, on Sunday.

The afternoon is mine, I can do what I like, I have no real plans.

Who Messes Up The Dishwasher

Oh yes, I am the kitchen nazi. Well, it is my designated role, since Sam cooks. I never complain about having to clean because no matter how much disarray the kitchen is in, it never normally takes me any longer than 15 minutes, or thereabouts, to clean it up. And that is a premium result over having to shop and cook for everyone, me, Sam and Charlie.

We also have what has turned into a permanent house guest in Toby, who just came to stay during his divorce and ever since he seems to have forgotten to leave. He cooks and cleans for himself, though.

Anyway, back to the kitchen and my nazi status, I like things done the way I like them done.

I'll have none of this combined scourer and sponge nonsense, it is just unnatural, scourers and sponges are not meant to be joined, it's just ridiculous. Separate sponges and scourers please. I mean, they have different functions, scourers are meant to be used on dishes, while sponges are meant to wipe down benches, or wipe up spills, and the like.

Oh yes, I am the dishwasher nazi too. I decry the world when I see the big bowls put inside the small bowls, or the plates put in with the bowls, or the upper basket mixed up with the lower basket wilfully, do you people have no sense at all? I am often heard to mumble something about the world is full of idiots when I am at the dishwasher loading dirty dishes.

Toby for the longest time washed all the dishes he uses by hand, which seemed weird when we have a dishwasher. I suspect Sam said something to him after I said something to Sam. I was only making comment, I wasn't making suggestions for Toby to use the dishwasher, just that it was odd. As Charlie certainly doesn't know what the dishwasher is, and Sam never puts anything in it as he cooks and I really think he thinks he shouldn't have to, with which I don't disagree, so that only leaves one person who fucks up the order of the dishwasher, Toby. 

And Sam said that I couldn't ask him to leave because he messes up the dishwasher, he said that isn't a reason to ask someone to leave.

"So, when is he leaving?" (I don't care, honestly) I asked.

"Yes, well, who knows," said Sam.

"What did we say at the beginning?" I asked.

"We said, Oh you poor thing, that is terrible that Brad cheated on you, and with so many other guys, come and stay at our place if you need to get out of there."

He must have gone straight home and packed his bags straight away, turning up at our door that night.

"We didn't say for how long, did we?" I asked Sam.

"No, we didn't."

"So, how long do you think he is staying?"

"I don't know," said Sam. "Ask him?"

"You ask him," I said.

"You ask him," said Sam.

"Don't you think it should be something he should be asking us?" I said.

"Do you want him to leave?" asked Sam.

"No, not particularly," I said.

"Well, there you go," said Sam.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

Sam shrugged. "Whatever you want it to mean."

"Huh?"

Sam just gazed back at me without answering.

In The Gym

I went to the gym this morning, mid morning. I did my workout in a little over an hour, it was good. 2nd session on my own.

There was a muscle guy in a black sleeveless t-shirt and black shorts that were so tight I have no idea how he got them on. You know, he was well built, and it was worth showing it all off, and all, but I suspect he could have done himself an injury getting those shorts on, if he wasn't careful.

There was a girl there who was grunting with every movement she made the sound of which was so primal I suspect it's what she'd sound like when she was home with her big boof of a boyfriend, Brad, after a bottle, or two, of dry white wine.

There was what I'd call everyone's accountant, with his ever so slightly receding curly hair, his square metal rimmed glasses, pale skin, a cream far too big singlet that matched the hue of his skin, with great guns.

There was an old, bean pole of a lurch type, with a constantly pained look on his face, pale flakey skin and pale red hair, who seemed to be unnaturally hairy all over, who I realised, when he walked past me near the end, that he wasn't old at all, most likely, he was just one of those people who always looked kind of old. Poor sap.

I remembered to wear shorts myself, which was good, so I wasn't sweating in track pants for most of the session.

It was raining when I came out, which was kind of nice really, for the short walk home. It was fresh, and I didn't have enough time to get cold.

Then it was back to work.