Home On My Own

My day home on my own, my preferred state of being. I don't include Sam in that, of course, but it is his day in his office. I'm good on my own. Working away... on my blog as much as the work I am employed to do.

Charlie left early for parts unknown.

I went to the gym at 8.30am, and I am pretty sure I got my workout completed before Boris even signed in.

Since then, its been just me and Otto, sleeping soundly on the couch next to me in my study. Lovely Otto.

I'm playing a bit of Nancy Wilson, up loud. (I chuckle to myself, at the thought of Nancy Wilson's Naturally album being played at my funeral really loudly, no speeches, no speaking, everyone being directed to leave once it has finish playing, like my old mate Collin Butter's funeral which had loud music)

I went to the bakery and got food for lunch. A roll and a muffin.

The day is progressing very nicely, thank you very much.

Monday In The Office

My day in the office, so I leave early, so I have to spend less time with everyone else, you know, as you do.

I get to the office at 6:30am when it is still dark beyond the windows.

So, I have to deal with the annoying people for far fewer hours.

Win!

The temp came in who is doing Boris' job while she goes home to LapLand. She seems nice.

Sunny Sunday

4.44am. I was up. (Well, I did fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV last night for three hours)

4.49am. Milo comes and cuddles up, first time in days since he got beaten up, I can only assume, by a new cat in the neighbourhood. Hopefully, whoever owns it will start keeping it inside at night so Milo can roam free without fear of violence perpetrated against him. Ha ha.

I generate AI images for my 2008 blog

5am. I go out and dump all the boxes Sam cleaned out of the cupboards yesterday afternoon into three street bins in the dark. I got rid of everything. His major collection of white Apple packing boxes, I never thought I’d see the day that he’d get rid of them, but his hall cupboard is literally packed to the roof.

He was looking for a suitcase as he is heading overseas in a few weeks to visit his family.

I empty the dishwasher.

I make coffee.

I continue generating AI images for my 2008 blog

8.20am. Sam is up.

8.25am. Otto was up.

Magpies sing outside.  I love the magpies singing in the morning. It is my one beautiful memory of being sent to the country to my mad auntie Olive Joan and uncles farm, the wide open spaces in the morning and the magpie’s song.

I make Vegemite toast.

It was cleaning day, of course. So, we cleaned the house after breakfast, well, my breakfast, as Sam doesn’t eat breakfast.

12:35 pm. We take Otto for a walk.

12:52 pm. We’re at Rathdowne Street. The Sun is shining. The sky is blue. The gaggle stumbles across the lights on the green man. Last week, I was walking across this same crossing, typing my journal into my phone as I walked, and the first car waiting to turn left started to toot me, and when I looked up I think he was pointing at the lights and his watch, and when I laughed at him, he started to gesticulate even more wildly.

12:57pm. We’re in Lygon street eating Malaysian, 118 Lygon Street. It’s actually hot sitting in the sun. Excuse me while I take off my blue hoodie to show off my lilac t-shirt, unusual for me not to be wearing a black t-shirt. I just kind of grabbed it by mistake this morning and though, Oh, why not?

There are crowds of people, there’s a number of very cute boys (20 year olds, don’t get me wrong) amongst them, whose jocks you'd just peel down over their arses like chocolate wrappers and lick them out, just saying. Did I say that out loud? They are all sorts of noisy, it’s a circus.

1:04pm. There seems to be more people not fewer, the circus isn’t moving on, I guess, the sun brings them out. Sam tells me he thinks they are church people. You can usually tell church people by the dumb, deluded looks on their faces, I say. You know, the dumb smiles because they think they’ve got life sorted. All I see is dead eyes looking back at me. I guess I wouldn’t be licking their son’s arses then, well, not with their approval. Maybe, in a dark, secluded car park somewhere on the fringes, that what religious belief gives gay sons.

I ate Hainanese chicken rice, Sam ate Beef Rendang. 

The authentic Malaysian restaurant was too mean to give us a take away container to give Otto water, so he had to make do with a small paper cup refilled continually.

Otto growled at the Pandas arriving to collect their food deliveries.

1:31pm. We’re walking home in the glorious sunshine. It’s actually a beautiful day the weather is just perfect spring. 

It is a lovely day to meander through the gardens.

I continued generating AI images for my 2008 blog. Somehow, I got lost in generating images of sexy male angels in tights, that seemed to consume me for some time.

We started watching Young Sherlock again. Sam gives Otto his ball again, shutting off the fire with the screen. I’m disappointed how screwed up my imusic is again, now that Sam has given me his iPhone 16. He’ll give my iPhone 15 to his sister when he goes home. And he’ll buy a new iPhone later in the year when the new one is released, using his work iphone until then. That coupled with Otto incessantly pushing his ball into me, and my waning interest in Young Sherlock, I feel I got a bit crabby. 

David calls me and tells me in conjunction with Chat GPT his major birthday in Switzerland email from a few days ago is just the beginning of his birthday festival, there will be teasers and updates each month, I assume until next June. Something, or other, will happen next month, then the month after that the theme will be announced, A Splash of Blue, In September the official invitation will be sent out, complete with booklet. Then I think after that there will be instructions, and recommendations and updates, I think, every month for a year.

I’d really lost interest after the mention of the first update.

I fell asleep on the couch.

11pm. Sam woke me to go to bed.

Saturday Morning Gym

I'm going to the gym. It is really difficult to get motivated to put on shorts and go out into the cold, on htese cold mornings. Winter is not really the greatest for getting out and being physical.

But, I am making myself. Go, Christian, go! (Sam is telling me too)

I think feeling bad about myself for not going is the major motivation, though. Better than naything else.

Not Happy

Sam talked about his tax bill for 7 hours straight today, yesterday, I'm not exaggerating, until my ears were, literally, bleeding. 

It is fair to say he was upset about it.

I got nothing done on my day off, after lunch. Nothing. He kept at me to calculate figures for him. But I want to waste my time doing meaningless, things that interest me and keep me from thinking about my awful job that I want to quit.

He says he is quitting work if all he does is work to pay tax. I'm all for someone quitting their job and doing something else. But what is that something else?

And you don't want to make yourself poor in the process, either.

I just wanted to play around with my blog, you know, the waste of time olympics. That's what I wanted to do. I'm nearly done adding AI images to my blog posts.

I contemplated kissing him and having sex with him to shut him up, but I didn't.

But, you know, you have to listen and take interest in your partner if they have a concern, now don't you. Oh, yes you do, that is apart of the boyfriend agreement. 

So I listened, I calculated figures - Jasus, anyone would think I was an accou, an accou, no, I can't say it - right up until we started back onto it again later in the evening, then I had to say, Sam, enough. I felt awfully disloyal doing it, but it was getting towards a case of self-preservation by then. Chuckle.

Thursday Day Off

I'm sitting on the couch with Otto cuddled up to my right leg, enjoying generating AI image for my old blog posts, it is currently my favourite thing to do. Oh, you never know, some producer might discover it one day and turn it into the new Tales of The City. Ha ha, I could die alone too.

I'm wondering how rude I was to those Sydney HR scrags yesterday? I  don't think I was, no, not at all, but they hold some sort of strange gypsy curse over the finance team managers who never seem to be able to stand up to them, always crumbling under any duress sprayed at us from that team of mingers. It is very strange. Even the Big Pooh seems to cave into to the Horrible Reprobates.

Anyway, as I've said, I don't care.

First day off, and my gym day. I have to put it in my head some hours before I go, so as to will myself up off the couch and into shorts and out the door. That percolation of will has about another hour to bubble away inside me before the requisite pressure has built up in me to propel me out the door.

So, until then, lets see how many other AI images I can generate?

10.45am. I go to the gym.

Which reminds me, Tuesday I went to the gym. I was talking to Boris just before I left 10.30am'ish and I mentioned to her that I was up to date and that I was going to the gym for an hour.

She laughed like me going to the gym was incredulous. 

Bitch, I thought.

She's also not coping with everything at the moment and maybe she laughed because she thought it was too much for me to go to the gym during work hours when she was feeling like she is going under.

That could also be it.

But, girl, that's why I stopped doing the manager's job as soon as I could afford to do so, years ago.

Be the manager, it's your choice.

From Where Do They Get These DipShits?

We've got this new problem in Sydney HR named, we'll call her Lassie. I really think she suffers from OCD. I can't be sure, she might just be an anally fucked up retentive monster, but, with my history with Manny, the feeling is OCD that I get.

She asks me to confirm every singe interaction that we have, that recently I said that I wouldn't.

"I'll deal with it, Lassie," you loser, I think, "You don't need to be involved any longer."

Then she asked me to relay whatever conversation I have when dealing with the matter, so she could make notes.

Again, I said no.

She is so pathetic that when I was trying to have an email conversation with her about some figures, the other day, she kept cc'ing in The Midget to the email.

WTF!

All I could think was, what are you doing, you pathetic cow, can't you deal with something on your own merits, without clinging to those above you.

Recently, she asked me to confirm something completely useless, just like her, and I thought, Oh, piss off you moron, and I didn't confirm it.

She sent an email to the head of HR and The Midget telling them how I failed to confirm something for her.

Boris is getting kicked by The Midget and is now prefacing what she has to say with, I-can't-deal-with-this-any-more, blah, blah, blah.

The problem is, ever since Brun died, someone as sweet and real, and lovely as Brun, suddenly dying, I don't really care any more. If someone as good and pure as Brun can be taken from us, you know, pointlessly, what is the fucking point to anything, really.

I don't know if that makes sense, but it makes sense to me.

So, I don't care. I'm dangerous - desperately trying to think up a better expression - oh, so fucken dangerous, listen to me, when I don't care. Jasus!

Anyway, whatever, you know this means war. Well, you know, quiet, immovable, uncooperative, war. I'm done with her.

Where do they get these pint sized Hitlers from? I think it must be a prerequisite to work in HR. Or is that having half your brain removed? Yeah, I'm not sure which.

Home On My Own

I worked at home all day on my own, which I like. I'm happy on my own. I never understand why people aren't.

Sam had to go to the office. Charlie disappeared early too. It was just me and Otto and The Rolling Stones all day.

Charlie had left a bag of BreadTop pastries in the kitchen, so, you know, I like that too. Anything with the word pasty in its' title is alright with me.

In The Office

 

My day to go into the office. I'm up early, had breakfast and coffee and ready to go by 6am.

Go to the office, I think as I sling my bag over my shoulder. Go to the office, er? Stupid company making me go to the office. Grrrr!

It’s raining outside so, as you can imagine, I’m less impressed than I was before. Seriously, can we have another pandemic?

It’s raining all the way to the tram stop, not heavy rain, but rain enough to make me wet by the time I get to the corner, and that is mostly under awnings.

6am. I make it to the tram shelter cnr Brunswick Street and Gertrude Street. The young Asian chick already standing under the shelter looks momentarily scared at my intrusion. Er, sorry, I want to say, but of course, I don’t. Another chick in a camel coat joins us, taking one of the cold, metal seats.

I start Foreign Tongues in my headphones and the scared chick and the camel coat fade from my consciousness.

6:05am. The tram comes.

The three of us get on out of the rain.

The tram is relatively sparsely populated.

Spring Street and I am legal. Ha ha.

Swanston Street. A gaggle of tradie boys get on in hiviz. A whole work team of them, and suddenly the tram is full. Lots of blokes. As far as I can see. It's the beginning of a porn movie.

6:17am. I'm off the tram. There’s some idiot with a leaf blower halfway down Collins Street. Get a broom and sweep them up, you dope, I think. I don’t really care though, I’m just making my way to my office in the dark.

6:20am. I’m in the lift.

First thing, I make coffee.

I get everything done by the time everyone else comes in. Then I do absolutely everything I have to do by lunch.

I stumble across a video of Buddy and Brun down by the Yarra and Brun looks so happy. It comes up on my phone.

Makes me think life is a process of diminishing returns, it really is. In the end you lose everything and you get less and less and less.

I get a salad and a muffin for lunch.

I think Boris is shitty with me about her holiday relief? Oh well, what can you do.

I’m bored after lunch. Everything is done, I’m up to date and scratching around for things to do, which I really hate. Apparently, Boris is snowed under, well, if you’d been nicer, I might have offered to help. Nyr? Whatever.

I listen to the Rolling Stones all day.

I can’t shake off feeling sad after seeing Brun so happy walking along the path next to the Yarra. What’s the point, I can’t help thinking, when something, someone, as good and as lovely as Brun dies. 

We’re inching towards home time, come on hours pass quickly.

Cold Sunday

It's cold. It's cleaning day. Otto and I are lounging on the couch lazily. Sam has already done his cleaning chores. My cleaning chores are still hanging over me. I so don't feel like it, but Sam won't except any excuses. Haha.

11am. Charlie just got up.

I don't feel like doing anything on this grey day. I just want to stay on the couch with my dog. BooHoo.

I'm cold, I just don't seem to feel warm.

Sam reckons its colder this winter than last winter. I don't know about that. Winter is winter, I think, they are all cold.

Sam goes to the city for a haircut. Otto and I walk with him to the halfway point. That's when the clouds got really dark, black and the temperature drops to its coldest. Sam keeps going. Otto and I turn back. I don't want to be walking back in the rain with no shelter. Otto starts walking faster as he always does when he thinks we are heading home.

We walk to our front gate. I intended to walk Otto all the way down our street and back, so we are within a short distance of the verandas of the main road, just in case the rain does come down, but once we are at our front gate, Otto makes it clear that he doesn't want to walk anywhere else, so we go inside.

I throw more wood on the fire. I start to feel warm for the first time today. Otto cuddles up next to me on the couch.

Saturday Gym Day

I’m happy on the couch with Otto all morning, until Sam reminds me to go to the gym.

Oh, yes, the gym, it’s gym day. Rats! Gym day, nyr, I think. Go to the gym.

So, it takes me about an hour after that to build up the 'want' to put less clothes on and go out into this winter’s day to tackle the gym.

10:27am. I go to the gym. The thought of going out into the cold day nearly put me off, but I push myself. There is a little sun shining which is warming, but the wind is blowing, which is cooling.

10:29am. I’m on the exercise bike.

The gym is full of people. So many people like I have never seen before. 

Of course, I have my eye out for cock-out-boy. Oh, I don’t really know why, just for some excitement, I guess, while I do my exercises. Just to see his reaction, after he dropped his cock out his shorts leg. I don’t want anything from him, nah. I’m not even going to speak to him, unless, of course, he talks to me.

I’m listening to Foreign Tongues, Rolling Stones new album, which I am loving, just by the way.

10:33am. The Taj type turns up. (Taj was an Egyptian friend of mine back in the day, and this guy looks like him)

I’m peddling the bike and surveying the room.

There are a couple of cute boys, one tall dark-haired guy with a cap, and a guy with messy blond hair and a mushroom coloured t-shirt, a number of girls, a girl and boy together, they look like father and grown daughter. Maybe. He seems to be instructing her. The two girls have on skin tight black shorts. Nah, it’s just not the same. 

10:50am. Cute blond boy leaves. Good thick legs, solid butt, cute, he’d have a nice cock on him, I reckon.

I’m thinking about cock-out-boy turning up nervous, and standing in the blind spot to the rest of the gym, and me going over and holding it in my hand just out of sight, as it gets bigger.

I shake my head and peddle harder, clearing my mind of the nonsense. Seriously, I think. 

10:56am. I did 25 minutes on the bike easily listening to the new Stones album. It seemed like 5 minutes, honestly. The Stones should release a new album every week, just for my exercise bike riding at the gym.

I'm sweating when I get off, my t-shirt is wet. That's good, isn't it?

The single girl leaves.

The cute dark haired guy with the cap leaves

A gorgeous dark haired guy with a cap on backwards arrives, just as I finish my 25 minutes on the exercise bike. 

He does Chest Press, as I start on Lat pull down. He's really good looking, I can't help but sneak a few glance of him.

Cable pull down next.

The Taj type is in a black t-shirt and tight black track pants with a nice dick bulge. He’s little and wiry and an armful, I reckon.

Inclined chest press with dumbbells. 10 kilos. Should I put the weights up by now? Nah.

11:11am. Dick-out-boy arrives. I look up and there he is in person. Hey, I think, I didn’t really expect to see him. I avoid eye contact. He looks good though. Those thick legs and solid arse. Black shorts. Black singlet. Tattoo sleeve on his left arm.

I do Goblet Squats at the far end of the gym, turning my back.

He looks adorable all dressed in black. No, he does. I have to acknowledge that.

I do Knee Extensions, sneaking looks at him doing seated row.

I do planking. If I’m doing planking I must be near the end of my workout.

Straight mate with the moustache arrives. A solid guy who has such a whimsical expression on his face the whole time he works out, arrives. He's kind of adorable.

The gorgeous dark haired boy with a cap on backwards arrives back upstairs and gets on that kneeling up machine, which I never really know what it is.

Cock-out-boy and The Taj Type, and the boyfriend type, all in the gym together, just a cute bunch.

11:21am. I leave the gym. I walk out without looking back.

Cock out boy arrived at 11:11am, you know, it is my time 11.11. Should I take anything from that? (David would) He looked gorgeous too, all in black, tight shorts, legs, his dick looking like it’s bouncing around in a pair of boxers. Anyway, not long ago, I would’ve been racing him off by now, had sex with him. Change rooms, back alley, somewhere. But you know, not any more. I like Sam, I wouldn’t swap Sam for the world. After all these years of test driving and putting them through their paces, tasting them and licking them, Sam is my guy. He’s the one. He’s pretty much perfect. I had to work my way through all those princes find my ultimate prince and now I’ve got him, I’m beyond happy with him.

So, what do I care? I don't. This is just a game, something to make the hour pass in a more interesting way than it would have otherwise.

We take Otto for a walk to the Carlton Gardens. The day is grey. No sun. The wind is blowing and it’s kind of cold.

Sam goes to Coles on the way back. Otto and I continue home.

We ate Japanese take away for lunch. Sam went and got it. $80, but Sam reckons it will cover two meals for two people.

Mid afternoon, I make a fire, when it looks like it is going to rain.

I am ambivalent about Hackey Diamonds, from someone who thinks the Stones have never delivered a bad album, but I love the new album.

I generate AI images and re-write blog posts for Feb 2006.

The rain pours down outside.

We don’t leave the house again for the day. In fact, we don’t leave the open fire on this cold, wet winter's day.

Foreign Tongues

It's freezing this morning, bloody cold. It is winter though, so we're expecting what else? Otto and I are cuddled up on the couch keeping each other warm, he is like a heater plugged in next to me.

The new Rolling Stones CD is out today, I suddenly realised half way through the morning. Don't know why I thought it was tomorrow? I've been trying to find it, who has it in stock. None of the city shops have received their stock yet. Just Glen Waverley and Werribee, according to JB online guy, all just a bit too far to drive to really, for someone who is loathed to leave the inner suburbs. I contemplated driving to Glen Waverley, half an hour, or so, but no, I'm not going to.

The city shops are supposed to be getting their stock today, but they haven't yet. The nice guy I spoke to on the phone, in the city shop, said he was getting in quite a lot of stock when it comes in. Grrrr! But it could be Monday, if not today.

I said I'd check back later in the day. he said okay.

We ate chicken curry for lunch.

The sun has come out, finally. So there is finally some warmth in the day. It now looks bright outside. It was even warm to go out and stand in it.

I checked online to see if the city shops came up with stock, early afternoon, but no. But it mentioned something about Brunswick. So, I called Brunswick and they had stock. And yes they would put it aside for me. Lovely.

So much for the online guys telling me to go to Glen Waverley, or Werribee. They must be like Sam, is all I could think, and they don't drive.

Of course, then Sam wanted me to go via Northland to get games for him. So, I called Northland and asked them if they had The Rolling Stones CD so I could get both things at once, two birds, one stone, and cancel Brunswick, but they didn't have it.

So, I went to Brunswick and got it. Sam said not to go to Northland to get his games. I said that I still would, but he said no. I don't know why he said no, but he was definite?

It's good too. The CD, Actually, first listen, I think it is really good.

That's what I did today.

I rewrote old blog posts too, from 2006, in bewteen all that carry on. One day someone might discover my old blog posts. Maybe. 

Dragging My Arse To The Gym

Today its freezing. I'm freezing. Fuck me, it's winter.

Charlie came rushing out to put his ebike on charge. He must be going to use it later, and forgot about charging it. 

He came out in his longJohns, that cling to him, at the best of times. Did he not realise he had a hardon? Surely he must have? It was like he didn't think, just thinking about getting that ebike on charge. Anyway, Good onya Charlie. I don't look at Charlie that way, I don't, but it was hard not to notice. No gay guy is going to complain about a 24 year old with a fat, let me just say.

I've been on the couch all morning, under a blanket, a couple of blankets, re-writing my blogs. Up early, of course. Trying to keep warm.

I have to take Otto for a walk. I should just take him, it would warm me up.

I have to go to the gym, but the thought of putting on shorts and a singlet in this weather makes me shiver just thinking about it.

Brrrrrrr.

I didn't go to the gym on Tuesday, bad Christian. The bitches were at me at work.

I should go to the gym. No, I really should go. I'm going to go. Yes, I am. I am going. I'm shaking with the cold just thinking about it. But I'm going. Going now. Yes, I am. Here I go.

And I went. I did.

Just A Day

It was just a work day, nothing special. Wednesday. Is there anything good that can be said about Wednesday? It was cold, winter cold. I kept stoking the open fire up with wood all day to heat up the lounge room, even though I wasn't in there. It was freezing all day.

And, yes, I think Boris is shitty with me about her holidays, she's been kind of different, can't put my finger on it, but short, and not really very friendly, friendly enough, but kind of pulled back. Not sure if that makes sense. And today she said she was far too busy to help me with something, and she has never said that before.

I can understand, really. I did say yes, and then say no, sure I did. She didn't kind of ask me, though, she just said when she was taking holidays and assumed I'd fill in for her. And I kind of didn't think quick enough what that really ment under the current circumstances. When I really thought about it, on the next weekend, I realised it would be a nightmare and that I really didn't want to do it, and I told her.

Shrug. Last day of the week for me. WooHoo! (There's something good that can be said about Wednesday)

And I don't have to work full time any time in my future. Let's have a cheer for that.

Ha ha.

Go on, bugger off to Lapland. Have a nice time. (not until next month, of course)

Dead On A Grey Afternoon

I'm pretty sure I saw a dead body yesterday.

I was leaving the office just before 3pm. I was running up Collins Street to William Street. I like to run when I leave the office on my days in there. You know, get the hell out of there. Ha ha.

It's not just symbolic, it's the time I remember to run. When was the last time you ran? Do you even remember? I think it must be good for us to run sometimes, to feel the heaving, and that hard breathing, get you lungs working. I like it. It makes me feel alive.

Half way up Collins Street, there was a woman on a street bench with two police officers standing around her, and weirdly, two teenage boys taking photos. To tell you the truth, it was the police officers and the teenage boys who really caught my attention, as they were doing something.

I didn't really look at the woman, except to notice she was sitting on a very uncomfortable angle. And I saw her hands, as I ran past, which were definitely not the right colour, they were kind of grey/blue. They were really not a healthy colour.

A good day to die? By yourself, on a street bench. I guess, it's as good a place as any, in your woollen winter coat and your best hat.

It was a cold, grey afternoon. I guess it was the kind of day that death would come calling.

As I sat on the tram, I heard sirens coming from far away.

First Day With Boris After I Said No

Okay, today is the first day I see Boris face to face after I reneged on doing her nightmare holiday relief. I wonder how it will go?

It still seems far to easy an 'out' on my part, let me tell you, but I guess I will find out this morning, hey?

I have a 10am meeting with Boris and The Midget, so I wonder what they will say?

"I'm very happy with my decision, thank you very much and no, I don't want to reconsider," is all I have to remember.

Over the last year the thing Boris has said more than anything else is that our work life is almost unbearable with the partners, and out of control HR, and The Midget's micromanagement, it was just a shame I didn't think of all that when I first said yes I would do her holiday relief. It is just a shame that it took me a week to change my mind.

What happens if they say that can't get a temp manager to fill the role?

Fuck it, my answer is still no. Boris can swan around Lapland when she can get a temp manager to replace her.

Anyway, I'd better get my arse moving.

A little later…

The first message I read is from The Midget, she wants to chat to me first thing.

Some time later...

Boris seemed a little pissed off today. Was it with me? I don't know. Maybe she was.

How Sundays Should Be

We took Otto for a walk, around midday, once around the gardens in the warm winter sun shine, and then home again. Sam headed off to the supermarket, as we got near home, to get food for lunch, and Otto wanted to know why, as he always does, constantly looking back for a short time. He never likes to split the pack up. Buddy was the same.

We cleaned too, of course, before we went out, it was Sunday after all, and my boyfriend is a stickler for that kind of routine. One of my favourite expressions is, a mind is a terrible thing to waste on house work, however...

Then it was a day on the couches doing screens.

We watched Project Hail Mary, er, um, nyr. Sam's pick. I wanted to watch Clarkson's Farm. Right there is the different tastes in our movie/TV watching, what is it they say, in a nutshell.

We ate lamb shanks and roast vegetables.

I fell asleep on the couch in front of Last One Laughing.

Out To The Burbs

Sam had games to pick up he'd ordered online. So, like the good boyfriend of the non-driving boyfriend type, I had to drive him. So we had to drive to a couple of suburban shopping centres to pick the games up. Joy. These were games on special that were only available at the retail outlets. 

Ah, Northland, how I loath thee. These high rise shopping meccas are there places that are more awful than them? Shopping places? They are awful, really they are. The Great Unwashed converging, fighting for car space just to have the privilege of shopping there.

I took Otto, so he and I waited outside, so I didn't have to go in. No dogs allowed. You have to be suspicious of anywhere that has a no dogs allowed policy, I reckon. No dogs allowed, I don't want to go there either.

(did you know in some parts of Italy, you can take your dogs into the supermarket)

Otto and I went to the Chemistwarehouse. I can take him into the Collingwood, or Fitzroy Chemistwarehouses, how about Northland? I don't know, I didn't ask. We just went in. I wasn't sure if I was getting looks, or not, but the checkout boy didn't say anything, so I can only assume it was okay. I thought it was okay, so we were okay. Every thing was okay.

The last time I was in Chemistwarehouse, in Fitzroy, there was me and my dogs, and a woman with an Airedale. There was another woman standing in the middle of the entrance foyer having an absolute meltdown to who, I assume, is the chief pharmacist about dogs in the shop. She was borderline hysterical, as I walked past, at which point she turned from him to me and beseeched me not to bring my dogs into the space, to which I replied with, “Go get some therapy, luv.”

So, it makes you a little wary,

So, after our expedition to the suburban swell, we came home via Carlton and bought fish burgers & chips for lunch. Lovely. The Rathdowne fish & chippery makes the best chips.

The rest of the day was a breeze, pissing around at home.

Dinner. And fall asleep on the couch for a few hours. Lovely.

Milo's face

It's not quite that bad, but you get the picture

I'm up early. I make coffee and I sit on the couch.

Milo jumps up and cuddles up like he does every morning, getting in cuddles before the bulldog gets up and wrecks it.

He looks at me, and I look at him. The side of his face is swollen. Oh, really?  I say. Haven't we had enough of vets for this year?

Milo has twenty four legs when it comes to putting him in the cat box for a vet visit. It is just about impossible to get him in, so that will be a joy, I think, to come, very shortly by the look of his face.

First up, I need to make an appointment.

When I had a cat that used to fight all the time, the vet taught me just to find the scab abd pull it off, and that will usually allow the abscess to drain which is usually as good as any vet visit.

I got pretty good at it with my other cat. You just can't think too much about it, just find it and pull. It worked like a charm.

I feel around the side of Milo's face for a scab, much to his catty annoyance, but I can't find a scab.

Grrrr!

He jumps off the couch and heads for parts unknown.

No reply from Josh.

Well, That Was Easy

Boris replied to my getting out of me doing her job email while she is away with, Okay, thanks for telling me. No phone call, just the email.

It seemed like a completely unsatisfactory answer to what I felt was a major issue, all at the same time being the best response I could possibly wish for.

I wondered momentarily, if she'd misunderstood my email, due to the complete calmness of her reply.

I dunno. I guess we will see. Ha?

I spoke to her a number of time during the day and she never bought it up.

It was a busy day sorting stuff out for the new year and we had lots of interaction despite me being at home and her being, well, I'm not 100% if she was in the office, or at home, wherever she never bought it up once.

So, that is good. Job done.

No reply from Josh.

Snatching Victory from the Jaws Of Defeat

I woke up worrying about the decision I made to fill in for Boris while she goes away for her annual 6 weeks holiday back to LapLand every year.

I think she goes beginning of August.

Okay, yeah, sure, I said I would do it.

What was I thinking?

Monday we had to have a meeting with the Big Poo and The Midget because HR's FishFace in Sydney escalated an issue to the both of them relaying her serious concerns, about a practise that we have always done.

Now, I'm not saying FishFace is a problem often forgetting procedures, or long standing practises that we have, no I'm not saying that.

(She is a fucking problem, that is what I am saying, let's be clear)

Anyway, that bought into sharp focus how I so don't want to work any more than I am doing now.

The PonyTail in Melbourne is also a problem.

You can add that to the fact that in the last 12 months HR has replaced existing staff with know-all millennial, straight out of uni not-actually-knowing-anything types who are all about promoting their own careers in the process of their day to day work, who will push every issue to the nth degree to get the answer they want, even if the answer they want is wrong. Couple this with The Midget's personality altering promotion in the last year where she micromanages us all now to an unbearable degree. Add to that we are now expected to turn up to the office 3 days a week if we are working full time. 

Boris and I say to each other regularly now that working for our company has almost become unbearable. The work/life/enjoyment has seriously deteriorated in the last 12 months, or so.

And I am beating myself up for the terrible mistake I made agreeing to work full time and take on her responsibilities, juggling HR/Finance/the Partners in a deteriorating environment for 6 weeks.

I sat in my lounge room at 4am (yesterday afternoon when the realisation hit me, I lay on the couch with Otto and dosed off in front of the open fire. Sam woke me at 5pm when he came home. I stayed awake long enough to eat dinner, but then went back to sleep until 11pm when Sam woke me to go to bed. So I had slept a lot) this morning writing out my resignation letter.

There is another minor issue too. They don't pay me a higher pay rate when I do holiday relief for Boris, my boss, which I don't care about, I get paid well. But, this year, I also didn't get a pay rise, or a bonus, either. The Big Poo called me and apologised personally for that, something about he pushed for it, but HR knocked it back. Really? Straight out of the mouth of the CFO of the Southern hemisphere. Really.

There I am working my 3 days, going to the office one day, not needing, or wanting to, do any more than that, being happy enough with my lot (despite the whinging) as it stood.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?

You idiot! You idiot! You idiot! You idiot!

So, letting Boris down because I said I would work, withstanding, at 6am, I wrote out an email saying that I had changed my mind and that I no longer want to do her holiday relief, rather than resigning all together.

She's got 4 to 6 weeks to sort out an alternative.

And although I feel bad about my lousy timing, I'm sorry, but it came down to me, or Boris in the end.

Weirdly, I won. 😐

She is going to be pissed off, sure. Oh why didn't I just say no 2 weeks ago. Stupid me.