Down the dog park with Buddy

There is something magical about dusk

The world slowly lights up

It is kind of beautiful, I want to stay longer to drink it in

Now, where is Buddy?

Saturday Morning Doctor, Lunch And Shopping

It was 9 something when we woke up this morning. I slipped as I got out of bed and landed on my arse on the Persian rug at the edge of the bed. Sam looked bemused, as I was startled, looking back at him, I guess, also bemused. Shit, hey?

I went to the supermarket and got milk and bananas and ciabatta bread, which is nice with butter and Vegemite for breakfast. Remember, Sam hates cereal, with a passion. 

"Boring fucking food, I don't know how you eat it."

I also got peanut butter and hazelnut spread, lovely. There was also spreadable marshmallow called Fluff, which I looked at, inspected, turned the jar over and felt how light the whole thing was then placed it back on the shelf with a reproachful shake of the head. I have never seen something so white.

I remember, in America they had a product called (something like) Fluff n Udder, which was striped marshmallow and either jam and/or peanut butter.

It was a lovely morning for a walk and I was sorry that I didn’t take my phone to take some photos.

Sam had to see Doctor Johnny at 11.30am, the continuing saga of his wart on his heal. So we headed off down to Victoria Street on our usual Saturday morning walk. It was cold today, so I pushed Sam over to the sunny side of the street. Doctor Johnny is always running late, so I stopped off at the only coffee shop in Victoria Street to drink coffee, rather than sitting dutifully in Dr Johnny’s waiting room, much to Sam’s chagrin. Sam wanted me to sit with him in the docs waiting room on the hard chairs reading the year old magazines. I had fresh coffee instead and the latest newspaper.

Victoria Street was kind of deserted, something you rarely see, which will become rarer and rarer due to the idiot decisions of this governments planning minister, Mathew Guy, and the over abundance of flats which are now being built at the far end of Victoria Street.

You don't often see Victoria Street clear like this... is is just about always a car park

After Sam was finished getting his foot wart seen to, of course he asked the doctor no questions yet again, it was time for lunch. I ate Pad Thai. Sam ate Gravy Noodles. The gravy noodles looked horrible, but were, actually, quite tasty. I don’t know why, just lately, that I have had a hankering for Pad Thai, but I have.

We went shopping after lunch. 

I have got a second pair of glasses recently and I decided that I should buy another glasses case for them, rather than just making do. So, I went back to the shop where I bought my current glasses case from to buy another, as I really like the one I have now.

The other day, when I was cutting back the creeper from the top of the side wall I threw the pan and brush from the top of the veranda across the back of the house. The pan landed badly and the corner cracked off leaving the pan useless, so I wanted to buy a new pan and brush today. 

I had already looked in one shop for the pan and brush, so with my new glasses case in my hand I asked in that shop what pan and brushes they had. They had a faux straw broom and a long handled pan, or some dinky minute brush with an equally useless pan, so I headed off to the supermarket where, I thought, I should have looked in the first place, instead of pissing around, as I had been doing.

I stood in front of the pan and brushes in the supermarket seeing that they had two sizes. I needed to put my glasses on, which I was carrying in my hand. I didn’t even notice the plastic covering the case, it wasn’t until I had opened them that I noticed that the colour inside wasn’t the colour of my usual glasses case. It was the new case that I held in my hand. I had walked out of the other shop with it in my hand, without paying for it. I was so used to carrying my glasses case in my hand that I hadn’t realised. I was surprised, perhaps a little shocked. I had walked straight out of the shop with their merchandise in my hand, just like that.

Oops.

I was surprised by what I had done. Sam told me I was a thief. He shook his head and reiterated my criminal behaviour, “You stole a glasses case,” when I said I wasn't going back to pay for it.

"No, come on, let's get out of here," I said.

"Thief."

"Oh, shut up, I have bought plenty from that shop..."

"Really?"

"Come on... let's go."

“Just like that?” he said.

“Just like that,” I said.

Secretly, I found it kind of thrilling. I pulled something off that I would never dare to do normally. I know that sounds pathetic, as I did it completely unconsciously, but that is how I felt. There you go.

Friday Off

It was raining when I woke up. Grey. Wet. I pulled myself out of the Manchester swamp, late. Cold. Bleak.

It was my day off, so 10am was a nice time to rise and I didn’t care about the grey or the cold. Fridays off, is there a nicer expression? I was thinking about gathering all of my journals together, or, at least, thinking of reading all of my old journals. I’m not sure why? I think I just wanted to write something, being creative. Perhaps, it was nostalgia.

I've been having really full on dreams, maybe it was just comforting. We had a shack in the country which we had to get a double bed out of... using a helicopter. The bed weighed 2 tones and we were all scared that if it fell it would crush us all. We had to get under it and guide it through a letterbox type slot in the roof, just the size of the double bed. It was really stressful and we were all in fear of dying in the process of the removal  Of course, once we had gotten the bed through the slot in the roof, there was no longer any roof at all and we could watch the helicopter flying away with the bed dangling below it.

I made coffee. I copied my latest journals over to my PC. Shrug, I just wanted to. Well, I guess, it is because of the disaster that befell my laptop. And while that was backed up on two hard drives, you can never be too backed up… er, safe... um… saved. The two complete back ups could only be restored to an Apple computer, even if the 3rd photo back up could be restored to either PC or Apple.

I guess it was just to feel safe. You know how we all have the greatest desire to feel safe. The news services use it to sell their news. The politicians use it to win votes. It is burrowing into the 21st century psyche like a tick, I’m no exception. 

Okay, so it was my turn to do some house work. Sam has been doing it the last few weekends so, I guess, I could do some today. How hard can it be. Big smile. He just does it, he is just organised that way. Me, I never was.

I did washing, our dressing gowns. It was Sam’s orders, I messaged him. I sewed up Sam’s dressing gown loop, the one that has been broken for the longest time, which has annoyed me for as long as it has allowed the cord to hang down. I hate that when the dressing gown cord hangs down on one side, like nobody cares about it. And then I washed it, both our dressing gowns, with fabric softener, as per Sam's orders. This was despite reading recently that fabric softener makes you depressed. Kind of ironic, hey?

The rain stopped and the day brightened up a little, even if the sun didn’t really shine. Home on a Friday. Lovely.

Buddy and I headed out into the street. I was sweeping the front path, those hibiscus flowers on the ground are lethal when they are wet, like slime, slippery slime. I swept them out into the street gutter. A grey haired lady came along, one of the sophisticated Fitzroy types of old, she hesitated when she saw Buddy roaming free.

“He wont hurt you, he is very gentle.”

“What sort of dog is he?” she asked.

“A British Bulldog,” I replied.

“You don’t see very many of them,” she replied.

We lament what is happening to Fitzroy, us traditional landholders. And I am not even one of the original inhabitants really. They are the old university types from the 1970s, I'm sure like the grey-haired lady passing by.

A cute man, with slicked back hair, came along and as he was getting into his 2 door silver BMW, I called Buddy and he ignored me. I looked at the guy and said, "Famously obedient." And he laughed and said he had a bulldog himself. At which point Buddy ran off and BMW man laughed.

I caught up with Buddy and turned him around and pointed him towards home and ran and jumped up on a man coming the other way in a lovely suit. Fortunately the man just laughed.

I took Buddy for a walk, everybody loved him in Brunswick Street, to the coffee shop to get a new seal for my coffee pot. The two jobs I had to do today was get the new seal and have a haircut and rather than put them off, like I normally would, I had a shower, got dressed and got to it.

“Lovely,” said Sam.

Two girls from the coffee shop hugged him and said they wanted him

“You follow my orders then?“

I went to the French bakery and bought a muffin, as I was looking for somewhere to tie Buddy up, one of 2 old ladies sitting at an outside table held out her hand to hold his lead, just like that. She was in a wheel chair with a knee rug and I found it so endearing I didn’t question it. The lady she was with, quite possibly her carer, lent down and grabbed Buddy’s collar too.

I was probably a little foolish to give her the lead, I soon thought, so I had to keep my eye on them. I’m not sure, but if another dog had come, it could have been a disaster.

“Did I get muffin too?” asked Sam.

“Oh… um… er…”

“Selfish. Poor poor me.”

“I would have been really happy to get you one.”

But? Too busy thinking yourself? 

Ouch!

I went and had my hair cut. I wondered if they’d be open at something to 4 in the afternoon. Was this just the beginnings of an excuse to stay sitting on my fat bum? I asked myself. But, they were both there, Iraqi and Fat Boy. Iraq caught my eye first and pointed me to his chair. I caught Fat Boy's eye a second later and I am sure he looked disappointed. I was disappointed too, I wanted Fat Boy's fat sausage like fingers on my hair. Fat Boy chatted to me the slightest excuse he got. He took over when I was paying, laughing and blushing red in that adorable way he does.

Sam came home and almost immediately wanted to go to the supermarket to shop for dinner. I was not so keen. I'd already left the house twice today, how many times did I have to go out into the fray? I ask you? It is not humanly possible to continue to go out and socialise with the riff raff out there, now is it? He, he. Ha ha.

"No, not the supermarket again! No, Sam, no!" 

We were discussing eating alternatives, instead of heading to the supermarket, as it turned out neither of us wanted to go. We had left over Japanese Curry and rice, so we heated that up. Sam also cooked egg.

How Cute is Buddy

Buddy lying in between my legs to keep warm, isn't he cute

Apparently, They Want Me Back. Shrug.

Okay, back to the X Foundation, last day. Actually, I shouldn’t be like that, without panic-stations-Elaine around it is not a bad place to work. It is pretty simple, their process’ are straight forward, it is all pretty laid back, to tell you the truth. The finance manager seems nice, prissy, buttoned up gay. The HR chick is dating some midget named Happy, I kid you not. The accounts girl is the nice one – half Italian, 3 sons, the sixteen year old has a bad cold, I wanted to offer to rub his chest with vic vapour rub, you know, just to be nice.

The HR chick is like every other HR chick there is; everything at the last minute, has no idea about anybody else’s timeframe but her own, does everything to make herself look good, and, pretty much, work is a boyfriend substitute.

HR chicks, they are the archetypal quiet types until drunk, then they are the personality change, predatory messy bitch at the bar wanting to get fucked by anything, all the time denying it, of course, just to make themselves feel desirable. It is in their DNA, like the beige stockings and sensible shoes. It is the thought they have as they cry themselves to sleep. I am desirable, I am desirable, I am a hideous cow... sob, sob. The lament of the HR chick.

I was booked for 2 days, a third if necessary. The finance manager questioned me if I’d be done in two days.

I reckon, I said. I nearly have it all done.

He looked pleased. Actually, it was a cross between surprised and delighted.

Interpretation – Elaine is shit and this guy knows it. Oh, she is shit, we all know, but we are all just too corporate polite to say it.

It was my last day, end of my assignment, end of the week. All over, done, nothing more to worry about, yay! ...out into the play ground soon with the other kids.

It looked like I was working late. Rats!

My mobile had run out of batteries, earlier in the day, as the computer I was using just wouldn’t seem to charge it, or would it, as it may have turned out later? But, as far as I could see it wasn’t charging it. It said it recognised the new hardware, but the power in my phone continued to fall, 4%, 3%, off, black. The minutes ticked away, heading to 5pm. I had to guess at Sam’s email address, which I got right, so gold elephant stamp for me. Go home without me, I’ll see you at home. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to contact me. I find that infuriating, never knowing anyone’s phone number anymore, so reliant on technology and when it fails, we’re fucked. Cross face.

I wanted to wrap it up and leave on time at 5pm. The finance manager wanted me to fix the fault he has had with his system. I was resisting. He was insisting. I put a call into my head office. They were to call me back. I was waiting it out until the bell went, as they say. He wanted me to call back, as he knew I’d be heading for the door pretty soon. 4.55pm. I begrudgingly called them back, got through straight away. I got the answer I wanted. 5pm. I fixed the problem he’d had, that he obviously knew Elaine couldn’t fix. All good. 5.10pm. He wanted to have a word with me. Really? I wanted to leave. 5.15. He wants me back the first day of the financial year, to complete xy and z. In fact, he wants me to continue to come in a few days per month for the next few months. Sigh. Don’t tell anyone. 5.20. Yay! It was just what I wanted to hear. Not. I guessed he meant Elaine. Sure. 5.25. Only if it doesn’t interfere with getting other jobs, more hours. Two days a month is a difficult one to fit into a schedule, it is just annoying really, and hard to fit better hours around. I’m not telling him though.

It was raining when I walked out into Bourke Street at 5.30pm, everything was shiny, slick, black, wet, the world shone under the street lights. It was only raining lightly, so I still walked home. I had to pop up my umbrella half way home when it got heavier. I always like to hold off with the umbrella as though it proves something, my metal, my strength, what a man I am, I don’t know.  I popped it opposite the Princess' Theatre. Have you ever realised that it is, in fact the Princess' Theatre and not the Princess Theatre?

We took Buddy for a short walk to the supermarket and not a long walk around Fitzroy to the supermarket, like we usually do. As it was still raining, and it was cold and Sam always acts like his hair is going to frizz if it gets wet. It was a dark shiny night with a fine mist of rain reflected against the headlights of the oncoming cars. We held the large umbrella over us both, over the 3 of us, not that Buddy cares if he gets wet.

We ate Japanese curry, lovely. Sam cooked, like he always does. I don't know how I crack it for cooking boyfriends, but I always seem to. Is it want and necessity stuff? Maybe? I can cook, of course, but...

Sam headed to bed before 10pm still exhausted from all that fresh country air.

I stayed up as I have tomorrow off, Friday at home and watched TV. There was one of those science, all about the universe, docos that got my attention. Some chick who I’d never seen before was hosting it.

Buddy snuggled in between my legs, as I lay on the floor, and fell asleep. First of all he lay his chin on my arse, as I lay on my stomach on the floor, but then he turned around. I thought it was cute. I had to hold the camera backwards over shoulders to get a picture. I wanted to show Sam, I didn’t think he’d believe me without a photo.

It is nice staying up with nothing to do the next day. It is nice not having to conform, measure up, fit in.

I call this one, Cinderella post midnight

I call this one, Nuclear Accident

I call this one Armageddon

Working Your Way Back to Me Babe

Did I tell you that Elaine's name is Bo-zo? Ha, ha, ha. It is fitting, really. What a bo-zo. What a clown. I laughed when I saw it today. I'd forgotten.

You think I am just being cruel, don't you? It is true. Elaine Clementine Bo-zo. I kid you not. There it is in black and white on the er... um... computer screen.

It all went okay, even if I got the, actual, details wrong. I thought I was helping Elaine, but no, she was on leave. Jesus! How did I miss that? Or is that a comment on her ineptitude? I think so? Idiot!

Now what did she tell me? I didn't take any notes?

Get a coffee.

Fuck me! 

I never got that? I never got that I was taking over and she was going to be away? We never did a hand over, as such. I always thought I was just assisting the stupid cow... because she wasn't coping.

Oh well, it all went okay anyway. Good thing I am smart, even if I do say so myself. I'm back there tomorrow, to keep going. I'm sure she couldn't do what I do? It has been a month since I was there last... just take over a month later. No notes, well very few, no safety net, oh, except my company behind me, of course.

So there you go, it went smoothly. In fact, I would say it went smoothly because Elaine wasn't there. She is one of those people who panics first and then acts.

I'm kind of the other way around. Scratch your head, get a coffee, have a think, once upon a time, go have a smoke. She is exhausting.

I had to catch a tram home because of the rain. I was texting Sam. I took photos of the punters, while I was waiting for Sam’s replies. I was coming home in the dark in the wet to an empty house.

I'm off to Jill's to introduce BamBam to Pebbles. Buddy to Bear. Taking the kids for a walk. Mark just rolled his eyes when I told him my plans tonight. He thinks dog owners are sad, baby substitutes and all that. Oh well, his loss. Shrug.

Sam is in country NSW, winging his way home to me... babe.

Oooooooooh-oh-oooooooooh

I'll keep working my way back to you, babe

With a burning love inside

Once more out into the bleak, out into the wet, out into the dark. Inclement, kind of sounds like an old aunt from the country, now doesn't it.

Sam wont be home until late.

Do you think she noticed?

My Baby is Flying Away from me

I had trouble sleeping last night. So did Sam. I thought it was me who was keeping him awake with my tossing and turning, but apparently not. Things look different in the middle of the night in the dark as the whites of our eyes reflect the one candle worth of light. I just didn’t seem to be able to switch my mind off. I was thinking about Mark telling me he was running out of money and that probably means that he will be wanting to help himself to my money again, from my account which is still attached to his internet banking. How do I get him to disconnect my account from his banking without insulting him?

I worried about selling mum’s country house, in this market. But we just did it. I don’t think my sister is quite so reliant on her inheritance as I am. She's made good investments during her working life and I have none.

I got cross about my brother Will just borrowing the money that was supposed to be coming to me, more recently. And there we have it, I think it is my brother’s business' money problems that are encouraging my sister to sell off the assets.

I’m worried about the nightmare that is work tomorrow, at the Loser Foundation and nightmare Elaine. I so hope she doesn’t want me to do her end of financial year figures? I guess she will, it will be the full nightmare, I can just feel it. You know how it goes, fat losers always want the world.

This was all in the middle of the fucking night! I tossed and turned.

Oh, it is just me, coming down, feeling second rate? I’m sure I’ll get through it and, really, who cares if I don’t, I have enough cred at work to weather one disaster.

But, it still stopped me sleeping, which I find really hard to handle, as nothing stops me sleeping, normally. I don't, actually, mind waking up in the middle of the night when it is that dreamy, relaxing, floating relaxing feeling, when I can glance at the bed side clock and think to myself, lovely another six hours to go, but not when it is wishing otherwise.

I don’t like stressing about things. I never used to stress about things, but something has changed in me and I seem to stress more than I ever did.

Is it just getting older, when you know the world is fucked and people are fucked and that they can easily affect you with all of their nonsense? Is that it? Experience brings you stress? Knowledge takes away your naivety?

Sam got up and went to work at the normal time. I stayed in bed, pulling the doona around me and drifting back to sleep. I remember him saying good bye to me. I remember blowing him kisses over the folded over edge of the doona.

I woke a little later, still worrying about everything. I sat up in bed and did my blog, which I wanted to do last night, but which Sam told me to stop doing.

I stayed in bed until 1pm, when I had to do an EOY webinar with work. I came downstairs to do that and it went until 3.30pm.

I spoke to Jill after that. I told her that we went to Macedon, I don't know why, it was just stupid really. And she kept asking me questions about it. Stupid me, I wish I had just told her the truth. That was just dumb.

She said that Lachlan has given up, that he hasn’t got any energy to go on. I told her that I should go and talk to him because I feel the same way. She laughed. I laughed. But, you know, while it isn’t exactly true now, Lachlan is 94 and almost fifty years older than me. And quite frankly, I’m not at all sure I have 50 years of energy in me. I just don’t think I have the energy to keep going to the Loser Foundation to deal with the likes of Elaine. I just want to tell her to die.

“I’m with you Lachlan, just let go, babe.”

He had a men’s wear shop that my mum used to take me to as a small boy, before I ever knew his daughter Jill. So I have known him for almost as long as the difference in our ages.

So at 4.30pm, I just had to leave the house. I went and bought a couple of Macaroons from Maccas and then walked down Smith Street and did my tattsLotto. 20 million. Can you imagine?

It was dark and overcast and strangely quiet in Smith Street.

Late afternoon, just me, Buddy, the fire and silence. It was very quiet.

At 5.47 Sam messaged me to say he was in a small plane just leaving Sydney. I hate little planes. I told him to message me as soon as he lands.

Red sky at night, poofter's delight

Long Weekend Comes To An End

I had dreams about trying to find my tram home. I had trouble. It was weird, I seemed to be standing in the old Batman Avenue, but there was a lake running next to it rather than a river. There seemed to be a girl who was commenting on all the things I’d got wrong, but with no advice about what was right. I seemed to have to climb up hills of cliff side suburbs, and crawl through share houses on the way, until I found what was the beginning of the tram line I was looking for, which resemble a luge track. It all seemed to be about going back to my old family home, a house I haven’t lived in for years.

Sam was up at the usual time. I remember him chatting to me and I remember having the thought of getting out of bed. But then, I slept until 11am, which is unusual for me now a days. I’d just stood up and I was still rocking backwards and forwards, even if that rocking was only in my mind, when Sam came through the door with a washing basket in his hand. Oh dear, this doesn’t look good, this looks as though he is in achieving mode, I thought. I could hear the washing machine chugging away as I headed down the stairs. Sam was back in the kitchen cleaning some dishes. He was onto me straight away. “Here, clean this… and this… and this… and this.” He rotated around pointing at all of the dirty dishes one by one. Remember, he cooks and I clean. This was a judgement… fuck it, this was an assault. All I wanted was coffee, but I knew the seal on my coffee pot was stuffed. I could feel the anger rising up in me immediately.

I don’t want to do anything straight away.

Why is it me who is always being ordered around?

Why is it me always following someone else’s desires?

Oh yes, I am cranky, that is for sure. I could feel it in my solaplexes. How many days had it been? 4 days. The dreaded four days later, I tell myself. Nothing I am feeling is real. Everything I am feeling is drug related, which I should take no notice of.

We walked to Grill’d with Buddy and ate hamburgers for lunch. I seemed to be so cross with Sam so easily. He asked me to get water for Buddy as we sat outside Grill’d. I snapped back at him,

“What are you talking about, they are not going to get us water for the dog.”

The cute guy from Grill’d, who was cleaning the tables said, “I’ll get you a bowl of water for your dog.”

Oops.

I buried my face in the newspaper after that.

We headed to the coffee shop to get a new seal for my coffee pot but it was closed. We headed to the supermarket and got spring onions, orange juice and eggs.

The sun shone down today, even if it wasn’t very hot. It was winter brittle. There was a gentle wash to the sky and the light. The day didn’t sparkle, but it kind of glowed on low intensity.

We came home and watched crap afternoon TV. I managed to find old sitcoms, rather than watching the normal afternoon drivel.

I felt cranky, I could feel myself coming down. It is a nasty feeling, angry at the slightest difficulty. I hate that feeling. It is shit. I was shitty. I exploded at the cat when I found her lying on my freshly washed jumper for the second time. Sam offered me a valium, which I declined, after which he reiterated his suggestion that I took it. I lay back on the couch and pulled the blanket over me. Just lie quietly, I thought. Sam lay next to me, we lay in each other’s arms. It was quiet and dark, just the glow of the television playing out on our faces.

We watched The Voice. I love Miss Murphy and Luke Kennedy, sadly Miss Murphy was outed. I think the host should fuck Harrison Craig, they’d look good doing it together. Although, I am ready to admit the two of them fall within my big brother, little brother fantasies.

Sam cooked noodles. I love his noodles, they are his specialty. J

Then Sam went and packed for his trip to central NSW and the cattle auctions. He has to program an app for ipad to make country sales easier. He has to fly there in the morning and stay over night. He is so looking forward to it. Ha ha.

I tried to find him an Akubra Hat and I could have, but I know he wouldn’t wear it. I thought he’d look cool in hit. He was so not convinced. Nor was he convinced about the checked shirt and the moleskins.

He kept shaking his head and repeating, poor me, poor me.

I sat up in bed and wrote while Sam drifted off to sleep to his piano music. It’s nice, I like it, it is my new favourite thing to do, even if he isn’t so keen. It is better than sitting up in the lounge on my own long after he has gone to bed on his own.

By 10.30pm, nana got cranky and was complaining about me sitting up. Switch it off!!! Switch it off!!! See, it is always about you!!! I hate that one. Switch it off! You can do it tomorrow!!! Switch it off!!

He’s lovely really. I like looking over and seeing his head on the pillow with the doona pulled up to his chin. Very cute.

The things that you see on your travels which may need explaining

An emergency internal was performed right there on the footpath?

Just the Two of Us

I had a dream, it was all about the houses of my friends from my teenage years. I called Angela McKenzie living at Rob Street (where Leah lived) when I meant to call Red Avenue (where David and Alex lived). The two phone numbers for Rob Street and Red Ave were very similar, and Angela, the new owner of Rob Street and I discussed my mistake. She seemed very nice, we had a long chat about the old group of friends.

Then the old group of friends, were all meeting at a picnic somewhere. I was standing with Adam, in a gravel car park between two roads, which ran off in a V shape, both of which were lined by Victorian shops and trees on the other side to the park, waiting for the others to arrive. I think it was Yarra Glen. Maybe?

WTF? I thought as I sat up in bed in the morning.

Sam and I got up and ate pizza toast, Sam cooked. He’ll make up anything to avoid cereal, he just won't eat it, which of course I don’t mind, it means there is always cereal for me when I want it. There was a shortage of cheese and my coffee pot is now failing. The toast was nice, despite its failings and the coffee was okay, despite the lack of it. The toast was a little dry and the coffee pot won’t percolate completely as its seal is fucked. It seems to let steam escape which is so violent that the lid pops open, so you get an explosion followed by what sounds like a gun shot, which is somewhat disconcerting when I am waiting for my morning hit. The toast was tasty, despite it all.

The milk had an expiry date of today.

I spoke to Anthony who is back in hospital with pancreatitis. He had left a message on my answering machine when I came to last Friday. He said some odd things, like he’d been in hospital for a week. I am positive that I spoke to him just last Tuesday. He seems to be forgetting things.

He says he is going to be in hospital for a few days, he’s not really sure.

He wanted to call Julie Orante to apologise for him for standing her up last week, the mother of Anthony’s dead boyfriend, the two of them still stay in touch. So I called her. She and I have met several times, but not for quite a few years, the last time at her son Nick’s wedding. And before that with Angelo at her house, but a long time before. Like all mothers of dead children, one of her first questions was weather or nor I knew Angelo.

“Yes, I knew Ange quite well, he and I were friends.”

I laughed afterwards when I thought that I should have said to her, Ange and I used to party together, when he’d wear his white Calvin Klien undies and his near perfect bubble butt would drive all the boys crazy.

The next thing she asked was about me, Mark & Luke? I told he about Bolago in way of explanation.

But, Anthony had already called her and cancelled their coffee morning together, he seemed to have forgotten that too.

He did say that he had a self-medicator for morphine, perhaps that is the reason?

We got showered and dressed and walked to Victoria Street and ate Pho. The sun was shining, but it was brittle and weak, just enough to give your skin a slight warming if you stood in it. It was the day that I chose to walk on the sunny side of Langridge Street, instead of whining like a baby from sweating as walked. I’m usually like the little girl who wines about the nasty sun.

It was the first time in a long time that we have sat at the back of the pho shop. All the tables were taken, and sharing was in full swing. We sat across the aisle from a cute, early 20’s, blond boy, who had a more beefy, mid twenties, blonde boy sitting opposite him. The early twenties blond boy had a cute face with blemish free skin. The mid twenties blonde boy filled out his jumper well and had a noticeable bulge in his jeans. They both had on headphones and were concentrating on their iPhones. Something was clearly still working in my head, as I could imagine them both suddenly grabbing each other and pashing over the table. They’d have made good boy friends. I could see the mid twenties boy giving it to the younger boy, from behind, cuddle up in his arms.  You know, putting what was obviously a considerable snake in his pants to good use.

We went shopping afterwards, but I’d really had enough by that point. Sam refused to cut it short, or agree to catch a tram, and as he was weighing up the pros and cons of choi sum, garlic chives and coriander, I wandered off, outside to find me some of that gentle sun. My back hurt, as did my eyes, and my energy levels were wavering around a quarter of a tank, less. I spotted a seat across the road, on which some old wrinkle-faced nana was taking a moments rest break in her walk to death, and I sat next to her. I hoped that Sam would spot me from across the street as he came out of the shop, but just in case I rolled around on one hip so as to be able to do a queen wave in his direction when I saw him looking for me, as he would undoubtedly do.

He found me, I knew he was a clever boy.

We walked home dragging our feet a little, a lot. I complained, a little, okay, alot.

I managed to commandeer the couch and have a little nap. However, with Buddy and Sam faffing around like they do this was short lived. Although, it was, amazingly, like an hour, or two, while Sam prepared dinner.

But then I got, “Move over I am cold.” And Buddy jumping up on the couch to see what the two of us were doing. Then I heard, “Oh Chris Humfrey,” and the TV came on.

We ate dinner, Sam’s specialty, pork belly with eggs and choi sum with shrimp. Yum.

The Pro is still sitting on its side in a tray of rice by the fire. We have both given the on switch a push from time to time, but nothing. Sam gave the on switch a twiddle tonight, after which he turned around to face me oblivious to the screen of the Pro coming to life.

“Hey, hey, hey,” was all I managed.

It died pretty soon after, which could just be the battery, maybe, who knows, but it was on long enough for Sam to see that the screen appeared to be working completely normally, the apple logo appeared.

We watched Sunday Night, Sixty Minutes, cuddled up on the couch under the blanket, Sam and me. The latest in terrorist attacks had both news shows excitedly reporting for ratings. We’d spent the whole weekend together, just the two of us. We seem to be spending more and more time together just the two of us. Our other friends seem to be drifting to the wayside, fading away. Is this a bad thing, I wondered as Elementary played out on the TV. I like Lucy Liu, I decided. She’s cool. She seems to be able to play drama as well as comedy.

Graham Norton, had a huge cast of stars, so said Graham Norton. Will Smith and his cute son, who dad adorably kissed on camera. Bradley Cooper, who has been on Graham Norton more times than any other star. Do you think Graham fancies him? Heather Graham. Michael Douglas.

Just me and Sam. He and I. The two of us against the world. I guess that is a good thing. Shrug. Why question it, if you like it.

We went to bed at 11pm. Sam promised that I could write on my computer in bed and he even said he wouldn’t complain. That lasted about half an hour before he was saying, “Switch it off.” Apparently, I had enough time to write whatever it was I wanted to write.

“But, down stairs you said you wouldn’t complain.”

The look.

Silence.

One dead laptop. The cup of tea I knocked over into it, just poured out when I held it up

I Can Always Sleep

We went back to sleep at 4.30am. Ah sleep, what I do best, as I always say. You’d think it should be some what diminished, some how affected? You’d reckon? It is what everyone complains about? Not able to sleep. Up for two days. Up for five days. Up for weeks? Whatever? I’ve never been up that long. I can sleep on anything. I always have. I have an ability to just switch off, at some point, usually at will, no matter what, I will just kind of stop. I lay my head down and my body twitches and the back of my neck pulses and I think I am not going to sleep and then zzzzz. I don’t know why, it is a skill, I guess. Pills, tabs, powders, liquids, inhalants I can always go to sleep after I have taken them.

We were up again at 9am. What is that five hours? I guess that is all you can expect, really? No really? Short and sweet.

Buddy came in this morning doing his dancing bulldog routine. We could have 2 cafes, Three Ducks on the Wall and The Dancing Bulldog, ha ha… He’s funny, I think he is still getting over his 24 hours on his own, not something he normally has to do, I’m sure he is still dancing away from it, keen to stick by our sides in case we contemplate it again.

Sam made porridge. Honey, banana, maple syrup, milk. Warm, soothing, like a thick jumper on a winters morning. I made coffee.

No computer. The stark reality of the night before started to sink in. Fuck! What have I done?

Sam restored my data back onto his Mac Air. It is exciting, really. Within an hour of getting up, on my own sign-on to his Mac Air, I had my computer data from the moment before the glass clipped the teacup and everything went black. Everything. Okay, not my complete photo collection, the data for that is all there to be restored, but maybe that may have to wait for the permanent solution to be decided upon. And my itunes isn’t up and running, so no music, but everything else.

We ate chicken schnitzel and salad. Something green, something white, something red… well, a lot of green.

We watched porn in the afternoon, yes, that much was still working. A friend of Sam’s gave him the name of a new porn hub site and I looked up father and son and brother porn, my own favourite drug-o-perve, amongst a few. The Peter’s twins got a whirl. The two French boys in suits were probably two of the most handsome men I have ever seen together in my life.

The days slipped away quietly and clean.

We ate hash browns, eggs, corn. It was nice. The textures were just right, something woven, something round and something smooth.

We watched TV in the afternoon. Quietly. Calm. Actually, I felt really normal. I tell you the tina isn’t what it was. I like the spiders on my back, I like the skin crawl, it is the reason to take drugs, for goodness sake. The changed reality, the altered state, the difference, I like all that and did I feel it? Not so much.

We decide that is the last time. It just seems pointless if the quality isn’t there. If I’m not going to get really out of it, get really fucked up then I don’t really want to do it anyway. I had really given it up anyway, a few years back, time to do other things, adult things, but Sam wanted to do it. But now he agrees. If the high isn’t high enough then it just isn’t worth the come down, or the money, or the time lost, to have a mediocre experience.

We watched Arj Barker. He’s great, I love Arj. I’d seen this particular show live at the Melbourne Town Hall at the comedy festival, but it made no difference, it was still very funny.

We went to bed at 10pm. I sat up in bed and tried to type this all out, until Sam said, “Switch it off.”

Well, That's Fucked It

We were off air until around 9pm. What is that? Twenty six hours? Not the longest, what shall we call it, session? It’s been longer before. I looked around the room, what a mess, I should have taken a photo. Ha ha. So many towels, so much accoutrement. Still, where did the time go? I don’t even remember time as milestones. Usually, I remember certain times on the clock, in the haze of it all.

We had showers and headed downstairs.

Buddy was a very excited bulldog when I let him in. He’d been outside and on his own since last night, which is really unusual for him. It is very funny to try and deal with him when I am fucked up. He just seems hysterical.

Sam made prawn pasta. We had an excess of prawns, it looked like fish bowls. It tasted okay, well, the prawns did, even if the pasta itself was a little lack lustre. But, it tasted of something, which is significant.

It was quiet sitting in the lounge in the half dark. Just our breathing, and the bulldogs snuffle. I wanted a fire, but that seemed like too much work. I wanted to put the TV on but Sam said no. So I got my laptop and put on some music.

It was, actually, an expensive undertaking getting up. I was sitting at the coffee table, Sam was sitting on the couch behind me, Buddy was sitting next to me. Buddy had just done something, I had just made a cup of tea, Sam had got me a glass of water and he reminded me to drink it. I picked up the glass to drink the water. I heard the chink of glass on china. I looked down just in time to see a tsunami of tea wash over the keyboard of my Mac. I saw the lights blink out for the very last time. It is as if I looked it in the eye as I stabbed it in the heart.

“Noooooooooooooooooo!”

Good by old friend, quite possibly my best friend.

Of course, I blamed Sam, as he told me not to put the TV on, as we’d been watching it for some like 24 hours and that I should give my eyes a rest.

Of course, I blame Jill. She talked me into buying the unstable fucking coffee cups from Ikea, which are narrower at the bottom than they are at the top and they are inherently unstable.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the lack of sleep and the four points, no, of course not. Sad face. The things we do, the damage that is done, nobody gets away with it for free. Perry and Kim bought a dud S class Mercedes, high as a kite, which cost them a fortune. Tom and Shane got HIV.

We went back to bed at midnight.

Happy fucking Queen’s birthday.

We Ate Hamburgers First

I had been thinking about tonight all day, if I have to be truthful. We were going back to our old long weekend behaviour, even if we had decided after Easter that we wouldn’t do it any more. It is just not having the same effect. I reckon there is an ingredient missing, quite frankly, the ingredient that causes “the dirty mind” of tina taking. It just hasn’t been there for me for quite a while. Who’d have thought that, that rec drug producers couldn’t be relied on?

Really?

It had been Sam’s idea. He started suggesting it just quietly, early on, slipping it in, occasionally, until my ears finally pricked up and heard it.

Sam was picking “it” up from his friend during the day, which means, of course, he’d have it at work for a period of time. Wow, who would have thought that Sam would ever do that, I’m sure he never would have. Is that the influence I’ve had on him? I was kind of hoping that I’d get away from work early, after my going away lunch, but that didn’t really eventuate. The going away lunch was nice, considering I am only a temp.

They all said good bye to me at (company name). They said they all loved me. They almost said they’d miss me. They are going to ask for me in future. Cool. I suppose it is nice, but they are only words and I am, most likely, never going to see any of them again. Good bye, have nice lives.

Late in the afternoon, the server at Sam’s company started playing up. He’d messaged a few times, each time saying that it wasn’t coming back up. I wasn’t sure what that meant, because technically Sam is on call for all of that stuff, even if he officially had a day off the next day? After everything, I wondered, deciding to party, getting the stuff, arguing about what drug dealer to use, and sorting all of that out, was there an unforeseen circumstance that was now going to bring it all undone?

I left half an hour early, and headed home. Sam messaged me not long after I got home to say he was on the tram. We went to McDonalds and got hamburgers. Sam went straight there, Buddy and I met him there. Sam ate a chicken Mc something, I ate an Angus something. Sam also got chips and coke. I'm never sure what the meal should be before hand, I was always the "not eat" type prior, but Sam always wants to.

Not long after we’d got back and eaten them, it was party time. Let’s say 7pm. Towels, water, gloves. Ha ha. Big smile.

Writing at Work

The old wrought iron warehouse/workshop over the road in Gertrude Street is up for lease after all these years. I had a dream that Mark and Luke rented it out and Sam and I ran it as a cafe/coffee house. We called it Three Ducks on the Wall. It was open plan and minimalist with 3 ducks actually on the wall. It was all finished off with concrete floors with bagged walls and the 3 ducks were turquoise on a magenta shelf.

I was a bit late today or, at least, I thought I was. I got the MacAir out to charge it up for my lunch time writing, I'd hate for it to run out of power, at work. But, I got into typing on my blog. Last night, I stayed up and got all of June done. I managed to get up to date, which can be a struggle now a days. But then this morning I added some more. Do you know how quickly time passes when you do that? In the morning, I'm sure every 2 minutes passes as 1 minute.

The next thing I knew I was running upstairs to Sam, when I felt he'd left for the bathroom ages before. And before he could say anything, I burst into the room, all singing, all dancing. 

“PISSING ABOUT! PISSING ABOUT! BABY, I HAVE BEEN PISSING ABOUT. YES I HAVE.” 

I announced it before he could question me. It’s his favourite expression to use about me when I am, oh what would I say, not doing what I am supposed to, not following what I've been told. He rolled his eyes, as he dried himself. 

“I’ll pissing about you, in just a minute.” He’s funny. “Clean your teeth!”

Two out of the three most heard comments by me from him, not bad. The other one is, “Switch it off.” At night when I am watching TV, when I am on my laptop. When I am in bed watching the TV or on my laptop. When I am on my laptop and we are meant to be going out... to the supermarket... to take the dog for a walk. "Switch it off!"

I am pretty sure they will, actually, be the last words I ever hear. “Switch it off.”

And then after all that, rushing about, getting myself dressed, it was still only 8.10 when I stopped, brushed my suit down and looked up at the clock and the day. Lovely. You have got to love that. I could feel every cell in my body relaxing.

It was a grey morning again, another morning in a week of grey mornings, possible a month of grey mornings, maybe a season of grey mornings. Maybe every morning from hence forth... ha ha, ho ho.

Then, as I headed off down the hill in the direction of Abbotsford, the first thing I saw was an athletic boy on the bike sailing down Langridge, with a really lovely furry bum crack sliding out of the back of his dark shorts. You know, the kind that makes you want to go face first into it, slobber, slobber. Slide your tongue in there and make it all wet. You know when you begin to resemble Hommer Simpson drooling… I’m sure. Grgrgrgrg! It is a nice way to start... well, anything really. (It should be mandatory, um, er, a nice tradition at corporate meetings, get the cute office boy {he's the 20 year old with the flawless skin on his first job} onto the board room table, spread eagle, everyone could have a go… oh, um, er, did I write that out loud) The guy on the bike looked European, with his designer stubble and his thick brown hair and his swarthy good looks with his grey designed scarf wrapped around his neck, as I drove passed.

As I approached the lights, I got my phone out of my brief case and got ready, as I watched him come down the hill behind me. Those sorts of shots (shorts shots) are hard to get, so I just kept pushing the button.

Nice, I thought as I reviewed my handiwork, as he cut across the line of traffic and disappeared out of sight, as bike riders do.

Shirley stopped me this morning for the first time... the lollipop lady. How about that? Suddenly, she was marching out in front of my car, like a mirage, or a dream, in reflective clothing and not standing on the footpath talking to her friend. My foot hovered over the accelerator. Her stop sign was bigger than she is and her clothes in relation to her size are like those of a three year old, kind of big, ready to be grown into, it is kind of cute really.

I’ve been bringing in Sam’s MacBook Air to work to write on at lunch time. I started out bringing in one of my journals and writing at lunch time, but, you know, that just started to feel so old fashion very quickly. Writing by hand can be good for flow but really having to type it all up at a later date, no. So, I could have bought in my MacBook Pro, but I have a 17 inch Pro and it is a bit like carrying around a boat anchor. The air is great, you can practically put it in your pocket. Actually, I think the Air is really great, to tell you the truth. It is just the right size, really.

I told Sam that I loved it and do you know what cutey pie responded with. “You can have it honey, and I’ll buy myself a new Pro." Which is lovely, but it is impractical to have two laptops and I do like my 17 inch screen for photos and Photoshop and the like.

Driving in traffic is bad enough, but riding in traffic

I Reckon Lollipop Lady's Name is Shirley

Another grey morning, clearly it had been raining all night. I checked to see if my roof had been leaking again, it hadn’t.

It was a lovely clear morning this morning, the roads seemed wide and open and the other drivers seemed with it and of the intelligent variety… except for one, of course. There is always one, hey? A blond bimbo in a charcoal Mazda 2. Blonde hair, a black sheath dress and a coloured scarf wrapped around her shoulders, she had HR written all over her. She drove steadily at 50 k’s, really annoying. I couldn’t help but tailgate her, I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. My natural want to torture HR coordinators came to the fore, instantly. She kept looking in the rear vision mirror, eyes darting, glancing. I could see her smoky eye treatment and her blue corneas. I hated her instantly.

The lollipop lady was on her own again. She turned towards me as I approached and I got to see her face clearly, seemingly, for the first time. She looked like she had smoked a million fags. I reckon her name is Shirley.

I got to work before 8.30, just before. Who’d have thought just a few years ago, when I’d waltz in at 9 something, that not so long after I’d be out the door early. It makes a difference when you like your job or, at least, you don’t hate it. The black law firm, hideous.

Build a bridge, hey. Yes, I know. It’s true.


TPG advises that your number has been ported successfully and we are now in the process of reconnecting the number for you. Well, that has only taken a month. It’s a great start TPG.


Then I had to sit and twiddle my thumbs waiting for another HR coordinator to get out of my way, so to speak. There has been a restructure, of sorts and naturally an org structure change. The Director of HR gave it to one of his 2 minions, to the minioniest of the two of them - think red lipstick, coifed hair, a vacant smile, an automoton voice, and mummy frocks at 24 - and that is where it seemed to stay for the day. Despite it being given a high priority, I could see her checking out fashion online, talking to her housemates on the phone and writing emails to god knows who... with her hand on her gash, well, maybe not literally. She even decided that it was time to get that staff memo out that she had had sitting on the back burner for weeks.

Yeah, great. The HR Director was spoken to three times, but it didn't seemed to make no difference.

I stretched what I had to do until lunch time. I went to lunch early. But, after that, I could stall no longer. Besides, if I just sat back and said nothing and then didn't get my work finished, it would look bad on me. Hey?

Initially, I got filling. Yay, thanks HR girl, I'll do the filing while you sit there and stroke your clitoris. Thanks.

But then I was given other work, tax calculations, which was fine. (Yes, as exciting as that sounds, sad isn't it) I don't really care what I do, as long as they know it wasn't me holding up the process. In fact, as long as they know it wasn't me being incompetent, a hold up in the work flow it possibly to my advantage, as they may have to ask me back for more days to complete the work.

To be fair to the HR girl, who I quite like, don’t get me wrong, I think she was waiting on information from her HR manager… and don’t get me started on HR managers.

I work in a room full of girls, I kind of like it. They are all nice, funny, entertaining. Today they started talking about thrush and the pain after child birth. They apologised for me having to listen to it all, saying they couldn’t imagine what I’d be saying about them after I leave. I simply said,

“They do things with yogurt.” I pulled a face. “And they put ice poles in their panties.”

They all laughed.

It’s secret women’s business, to be sure. I’ve often wondered if the yogurt treatment for thrush was a topical solution, but, no, you do eat it, apparently. See, you just never stop learning stuff.

I’m still not sure if they were serious about the icy poles.

The cupboards are still full of shit. Sam’s ears bleed from me telling him how unimpressed I am with the fact that Shane shoved all his shit into the store rooms after I had told him not to. Sam heard it all again when I found old canvasses of Shane’s when I was fishing paintings out of the second floor storage. But, I got it all out in the bins. I was old Mrs Jessup out there with the rubbish last night in the dark sneaking about. I deny it is my favourite thing. Getting the shit out of my house could be one of my favourite things, however.

Sam went to bed before the clock struck ten. “I’m exhausted.”

I stayed up until midnight, getting my blog done and waiting for the encore episode of Off Spring, which I missed last week and which I totally forgot about once it was on, remembering at 23.50 when it was scheduled to finish. I hate that.

My Favourite Porn Star

Conner Habib

Just Do It, Don’t Stress. Use Your Brain. And You Know What, It Always Works Out

 It was a grey morning.

It was gridlock in Fitzroy/Abbotsford as I tried to drive to work this morning. There were cars banked back around the boulevard – read Victoria Crescent – back to Mollison Street, even back to Langridge. I discovered the problem after I had inched around to Victoria Street, it was a parking lot. I had to turn right instead of left, for the first time ever and head around to Church and to Buckingham. They were invading from the left hand side streets as I headed down Buckingham, of course.

The lollipop lady wasn’t chatting to anyone this morning. There even seemed to be children approaching her. It seemed like I might get the Stop sign for the first time. I pushed my foot down on the accelerator.

I had a difficult problem to fix today, one that I didn’t, really, understand. I hate that, it makes me nervous. But, you know, I have learnt one thing over the years, if I don’t panic and get that brain foggy thing going, I can, actually, do anything.

And, you know, ask questions. There are no stupid questions.

Just do it, don’t stress. Use your brain. And you know what, I got it all worked out. I just have to pull it together tomorrow. Easy peasy. Why did I doubt myself? Stupid really. 

I think the people who do great things are just those people who step forward and put all of the energy the rest of us put into telling us we can’t do something into actually do it.

There was, what looked like a dodgy guy walking up X Street as I turned into my lane way. As my roller door opened and I slipped the car into gear, I noticed someone running up the laneway behind me. For a moment, I thought it was the dodgy guy, probably with a sharpened shank in his hand ready to rob me the moment my roller door touched the ground again. I got a chill, stupid me. The things we think?

It was Sam running up the laneway behind me.

Buddy didn’t come out of his kennel, and I was able to show Sam how Buddy some days must just think, er, I’m nice and warm in here, to tell you the truth. He soon came out when he realised it was “favourite” Sam.

We took Buddy for a walk, ending up at the supermarket, naturally. No day is complete without a trip to the supermarket.

We made seafood risotto, because we had a lemon. Sam is so funny with his meal choices, so often it is because we have the herb. 

“We can have such and such because we have parsley.” 

He makes me laugh. But, you know, he makes me laugh so often and not just with his dietary choices. Have I mentioned lately that I love my boyfriend? He is just the loveliest boy in the world. I’m not sure that I have reiterated that, just lately.

I called Jill, Lachlan isn’t home yet. Jill said he didn’t seem all that well when she visited today.  “I looked into his little face and it just didn’t look so perky.”

I called Anthony, he was a few sherries down. He seems to be back to sedating himself with liquor. He was funny, quite a laugh. He’d sent me an email which made no sense what so ever, so I called him, he insisted that he had made complete sense, as drunks often do.

No, my home phone number still hasn’t been ported by TPG, what is it a month now.

I pissed around with photos for the rest of the night on my laptop, as we watched Teeev.

 We watched to two taped episodes of Britain’s Best Drives. Richard Wilson is so the wrong host for that show. You’d think with a TV show that has the premise of driving the routes of 1950’s country drives as recommended by the guide books of the time, in the cars of the period, you’d have a host who is a car enthusiast – hopefully a 1950’s car enthusiast, which I must say that I am – and would therefore just naturally be a good driver. You’d think. He is just a hopeless driver and seemingly not that interested in driving either. One of the episodes we watched was in a Triumph TR3 and at one point Richard Wilson looks around the interior of the car as he is getting out and he says, Who’d have a car like this?

No! Fail! Get someone else. Richard May, of course, would be the perfect choice. Oh, I would have sooooooo loved to have done it. Anybody would be better.

Richard Wilson is terrible, for this show. I found him so irritating that I could barely continue to watch. Or as Sam said, You are only making my ears bleed with your outbursts. 

He didn’t even want to drive the 1950’s sedans, as the second episode I had taped and last episode of the series showed us. What? OMG!!!!! It would have been the greatest pleasure.

We watched Masterchef and recorded The Voice. I want to see what that hot blond tenor comes up with this time.

I am just having a moment’s time out from the paintings on my walls, to let the ideas coalesce. But, I am pretty sure I know what I want to do. Lovely. That is, that the paintings I want to add to the collection of paintings I have in my entrance hallway wall are the ones I have already decided upon. I have to frame up a water colour. I have to attach the smallest painting I have to the larger than I would like gap between the other paintings.

Eventually, I’d like to buy some original paintings by local artists and add them to the mix.

Who’d Have a Car Like This?

Sexy on wheels, the Triumph TR3, cool isn't it.

Birthdays And Crossing Things Off My 5 Year Plan

I spoke to Jill, she said last night she heard a bang crash and she called out to Lachlan. “Are you okay?”

“No, I have had a fall.”

And ambulance came and took him to hospital

That’s one round to the puppy and the father zero.


We looked at the pictures I have had for years that have never been framed. We looked at the Ikea catalogue and worked out what frames we could get to frame them. How things have changed, once I would have only ever had things framed at a shop, agonising over the frames until I found the perfect ones.

When I was heading into the shower, I noticed there was an unused hook up the stairs. I thought funny, how did we miss a whole place when we were arranging the pictures last night. My mind started to think of what other pictures I could put there. After the shower I realised that Sam had taken grand pa and grand ma down again.

As he was showering, I put them back up.

We I went to get dressed, I discovered my socks were wet, in the basket on the back of my wardrobe door. The roof had leaked. Shit! That has never happened before. Yay. You’ve just got to love 135 year old terrace houses.

There was lunch to get, a birthday present, a card and a plate of food to arrange for David’s birthday this evening and picture frames to be purchased.

We went to Victoria Street and ate Fur. Sam hadn’t had breakfast as I had and he insisted. Grrrr!!! Hungry hungry hippo who was about to roar! I bought white bread for David’s birthday fairy bread. We had to take a pink flower each, David’s favourite colour, so that a flower from each of his friends would make up a whole bunch of flowers for him. And we had to take a plate, so I figured I might as well carry the pink theme over.

We went to Ikea and bought picture frames for the pictures to be framed. Finally. OMG! Ikea. There can’t be that many bored people in Melbourne, can there? Apparently there is, the place was full, all aimlessly wondering about as if waiting to be entertained. It is a sad spectacle, it is only the spending off money that brings these people any joy. The brainwashing is complete, the advertisers and the marketers have won.

I bought David the God Delusion, to counter his stupid spirituality, let’s hope he reads it. Anyone who thinks there is a god, or a force, of a man on a cloud in the 21st Century must be slightly mentally deranged. The atheist and the guru, we have had many a discussion on the matter. Except David is like all the new age spiritualists, god or the great power, or the universal force can be anything you want it to be, so the argument for spiritual things can be so broad that it is unarguable.

We walked Buddy to Smith Street and bought a 50 year old card and 100’s & 1000’s. We came home and made fairy bread. I wrapped the present.

We went to David’s birthday party. It was a staggered surprise party, which seemed to make no sense to me at all. We had to be there at 5.30. We got there at 5.20, just as Margaret got there too. She was supposed to be 5pm, but had been caught up. We said we were going to sit in the car for 10 minutes, she said come inside.

As it turned out, the 5.15’s were early and the 4.45’s were late. Translation, everybody just got there when it suited them.

Sam and I are not very good boy scouts and we were bored after an hour, it seemed like hours had passed. The next hand full of minutes was interminable. After an hour I asked Sam if he wanted to leave, he said yes? We are always in tune with one another. Translation we are both as anti social as each other. A hour and half later we made an excuse and left. I saw that the show was being set up and whispered in Sam’s ear, we have to get out now.

We can be such partners in crime, the two of us. We always seem to think the same thing, we always seem to want to do what the other one wants to do. We are so in sink with our wants and desires. It is lovely, you know.

5.30 was way to early to start at a party, nobody is interesting until they are half pissed or fully bombed on something. And as I had to drive, that wasn’t going to happen for me. I much prefer to get to parties late when everybody else is wasted.

When we got home, as I headed upstairs I noticed straight away that Sam had taken grandma and grandpa away and hidden them back in the storeroom again, for the second time. But this time the hook was gone too. I yelled at him. I thought he’d taken the hook to make it harder to put them back. I thought that was too much. He looked at it and the realisation was clear across his face. He didn’t realise he pulled out the hook as well. I felt bad for being an old harpie.

We framed pictures and hung them. Sam was being difficult if he didn’t agree with the decision I had made. If he didn’t think I was doing the right thing, he wouldn’t play along so easily, but, you know, that is how we all are, I guess.

“Why are you being so difficult to get along with?” One of our favourite catchphrases to each other.

I think we managed to add colour to the front hallway. It is a bit new and old – Mark will probably comment along those lines – and there probably needs to be a few more modern pictures added, but it is a good start.

I am very pleased.

As my dear old uncle – the one married to the poisonous bitch aunty from Warracknabeal– would have said once, There’s a good job done.

Or as I might say, something crossed off my 5 year plan.

I've got a thing for doors. Not sure what that is all about?

I'm a Barista and a Dish Pig

I was up at 8.30, my ability to sleep in has completely left me. It was still raining. They day was on dim lighting, with the wet, moist look of the air of a rain forest out side.

I made coffee and cleaned the kitchen. It is my job, if you remember, and remiss of me not to have done it last night. Dish washer, Sam is the cook.

Sam was up not long after. It is this irrational want of his to always go to bed early.

“I’m tired.”

“It must be 10pm.”

I made him coffee, also my job. Barista and dish pig.

I toasted ciabatta bread and then I smothered it with butter and then topped it with just a scrape of Vegemite. Sam wanted olive oil and balsamic, but soon took mine and gave me his. Yum, yum! It has that crunchy, savoury taste. Ciabatta is just made for butter and vegemite, crusty, crisp and crunchy. And strong coffee… naturally.

Then I settled with my laptop. I wanted to catch up on my blog, get it up to date, which I never seem to do just lately.

Sam wanted to wash the woollen blanket from the couch, not long after breakfast. He is back on his fabric softener kick. I was happy to sit back on my arse and write on my laptop at the lounge room coffee table as I always am on the weekend. But there is a part, be it a small part, that cringes when the lazy arse that I am is pointed out to me. Sam wanted to wash everything, go, go, go, once he got started with the couch blanket and he did, blankets, jumpers, everything. He was like a whirlwind.

He told me that he thinks that the tiled kitchen floor has got damp from all the rain and he decides it must be mopped.

Really?

11am, I spoke to Jill. She says she feels awful. She says she is annoyed with Lachlan, that she is annoyed with his controlling characteristics.

Jill said that Lachlan’s sister asked him to go and live with her in Deniliquin, but he doesn’t want to live in the country. Wouldn’t it be nice to live out your final years with one of your sisters, in close proximity to your other sister? I would have thought?

I asked Jill what she thought the plan was for Bear to get to know Lachlan and to spend some time with her.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be able to bring her back here until… um… er… Lachlan is dead.”

Oh, I see, is what I think. I write the following message to Sam who is sitting on the couch behind me.

It looks like we have the corgi for good…

Sam doesn’t care, he is pleased, if anything.

I meant it as a temporary idea us looking after Bear, still, you know, there is a part of me – which I may end up regretting, for sure – who thinks it is kind of nice idea. So, I don’t say anything to Jill, I just let it play out. I mean, isn’t that what friends do for each other?

I kind of like the idea of us having two dogs to walk, one each, me and Sam. I have to pick up the dog shit anyway. Jill will pay the expenses relating to Bear, she wont cost me anything but time. What the hell.

We walked down to Sunny Bakery and got pork rolls for lunch. My hypoglycaemia was playing up big time by then. I was beginning to shake uncomfortably. I practically had to scoff it down right there at the counter to stop that awful feeling of losing it.

Roz arrived at 1pm to go and visit mum. Lottie wasn’t bad, quite alert. It was hot in the home and I suggested to take her outside. The nurses all looked kind of alarmed, but they get her a cardigan and we go outside.

Fuck it! Roz and I don’t care.

She talked about wanting to go home, for the first time in ages. My sister and I were a little perplexed. Later, when we took her back inside, she pointed at the new woman and said something about her taking her chair. Clearly, it is this new woman who has upset her.

Other than that, she seemed fine.

I got back home at 15.30.

Sam has been hinting at naughtiness for the June long weekend, if you know what I mean. He has been suggesting it subtly over the last few days, despite the two of us agreeing the last time that we wouldn’t be doing “it” again. A remark here, a comment there, a hint, a suggestion. So, then I got interested and I called Crystal South Yarra. It will be all go next week.

Sam started to rearrange the pictures on the walls. I find him up on the top staircase, heading up to the second floor. He got me interested in it too because the pictures needed to be moved around, it had been far too long. And then there was no stopping us.

We managed to change all of them around, just as well. I was rapidly falling into that category of someone who has the same pictures on the walls in the same places for years and years, how did that happen? I mean, I have changed a few, tweaked at the edges, moved a couple, but I haven’t had a big shuffle around for longer than I care to remember.

Sam had wanted to get rid of grand pa and grand ma from the second floor landing for the longest time… but I managed to talk him around. It is an oval Victoria portrait of two old people. Sam has never liked it, but I love them, they are like my great great grand parents. I have had them forever. Sam hates portraiture though.

I have hated my entrance hallway pictures for a long time, they are drab and uninteresting. I have wanted to add colour for quite a few years. I’ve had it in my mind that I wanted to buy some original art works, say two or three local painters. I wanted some oils, thick layers of colourful paint, maybe done with knives or spatulas. I don’t know, maybe modernist streetscapes or portraits. Maybe just two big pieces. Something new and interesting.

I didn’t realise how many, drawing, screen prints, paintings I had that essentially have white back grounds, as they were dotted around the house. Once I had moved them all into my bedroom and replaced the paintings I had on my bedroom walls, that left quite a few oil painting type paintings that needed new walls. And, I found some pictures that I have had stashed away for years that could be framed, but had never been framed.

Once those paintings are grouped together, they are perfect to replace half of the drab paintings in my front hallway. Lovely! My hallway is rejuvenated, essentially, with paintings I already had. If I frame up a couple of new ones, I’m sure it will all feel new again, refreshed.

It is lovely, really, being greeted by a gallery of paintings that are to my liking as I enter my house. Very nice.

Bear

Baby bear was the cutest puppy, but then who isn't cute as a puppy