Sad Face

Boris called, she wants me to go to the office on Monday. Boo hoo. Apparently, (Our department boss) Tony Rivers is asking for us to come back, at least one day a week. Boris said she would talk to me. She knows I don’t want to go back to the office, and I feebly restated to her. I love working from home and I have been contemplating this moment for some time. If I say I am not coming back to work in the office, that I want to continue working from home, I guess, I have to be prepared to resign if they make me go back.

Tony Rivers’ attitude has suddenly changed regarding all of us being back in the office. Where before, he said he didn’t really care, now he is suddenly very keen for us to return.

I wonder if it has anything to do with the government? We do work for the Victorian state government. And I am sure Dan Andrew’s is under pressure to get the CBD back up and running. We’re a multinational law firm, Maggie, June, Market, Gareth & Sophie, the govt speaks to our CEO, our CEO talks to his heads of departments, of which Tony Rivers is the CFO. We all get told to come back to the office. Our firm gets those govt contracts for which it was tendering. The govt gets kudos for getting the CBD back up and running.

Oh, it is so ridiculous. I don’t have any face to face staff contact, other than socially in my own department, all of my work is done by email. Because I don’t trust anyone not to deal with me in writing, nearly, not really, it’s an insurance policy, of sorts, but when you deal in figures everything is written down, that’s just the way my job is. I only really report to Boris, and, pretty much, I do that all by email too, just so everybody gets to process work in their own time.

I wonder if it has something to do with the planned department Xmas party? Grrr.

So, Monday…

It’s ridiculous. I get up at 5.30am, 6am, just because I do. (Okay, Sam is one for going to bed at 10.30pm, I never went to bed until midnight, 1am before I met Sam. I have fallen into the habit of going to bed early with Sam, so I get up early now) And, usually, I just start work, so come 9am, I have done 3 hours work. Then I go for a walk in the park. I’m back by 10am, when, usually, the rest of the office has got going and are starting to email me. Now, going to the office, (oh fuck it, I have to iron a shirt and have a shower and eat breakfast and take half an hour to walk there) I’ll get there at 7.30am, 8am and by 9am I have done 1 hour’s work, and I am stuck in the office.

Now, I finish when I like, usually around 4pm, sometimes earlier, sometimes later. In the office, I have to stay later than that. (Then I have to commute home for half an hour. Yes, I walk, it is still a waste of time, when I could be walking in the local park with headphones and not a bloody care in the world)

I quite like my immediate work colleagues, they often say they miss the funny things I say. Funny, I think in response, I haven’t thought about you guys all that much.

As for the rest of the Maggie, June, Market, Gareth & Sophie workforce, nyr, I can take them or leave them.

Talk Is Cheap (just like Scott Morrison)

Scott Morrison was called a liar by the President of France, and he just kept talking. When he was, virtually, called a liar by the US president, as well, he kept talking. When Australia was voted the worst country when it came to climate change, he just kept talking. When Australia’s climate change policies were said to be useless, he just kept talking. When he was labelled inadequate and a disappointment on the world stage, he kept talking. Australia was called a cheat and dishonest, and our boy just kept on talking. He just kept talking over all the experts saying Australia’s efforts were poor. He just kept talking saying Australia would achieve net zero carbon emissions our way. The Australian way. (I’m guessing that means increased emissions to please the fossil fuel industry?) He just kept taking about technology that we were going to use to solve the climate change problem, and he just kept talking when it was pointed out that most of the technology he was referring to doesn’t exist yet. He just kept talking about a plan that not only was going to utilise technology that doesn’t exist, he kept spruiking a plan which had no answer on how it was going to solve the last 15% of its target to achieve net zero, there was just nothing there. Morrison is the 85% man when it comes to fighting climate change. And he just kept talking, making promises of using technology, and denying the lies he’s told before. Talk, talk, talk, that is all he does, talk. Can-do Capitalism was his new catch phrase, and it would deliver us out of the catastrophe we are now facing. And he just kept talking when it was pointed out that Can-do Capitalism was what has caused the climate change problem in the first place. And then, he just kept talking, because, you see, Can-do Capitalism is code for we aren’t going to change anything we are doing.

Australia is being shamed on a world stage, and Scott Morrison continues like the air being expelled from a continuously deflating balloon.

What Is Wrong With People Today?

David sent me a message late last night asking, What is wrong with people today?

 

So, I answered when I was sitting on the couch at 6am this morning, waiting for my eyes to open.

Oh, you know, darling, too stupid to form complete sentences, or too busy staring into the mirror looking for salvation.

I looked back at it later, once my two coffees had settled and my brain’s light function was starting to deal with the day and thought, nyr, not bad.

Can I Stay?

David rang in the afternoon, he wanted to apologise for the time I put him in the uber and sent him to the airport. According to him, he now sees how he overstayed his welcome. 

(no matter how many times I tell him, he didn't over stay his welcome. He had a plane to catch, which he thought he had no chance of catching because he had been faffing about aimlessly all morning. That was went the fully organised Virgo in me stepped out of the shadows and cracked the whip and got his bags packed and got an uber booked and got him in it which got him to the airport on time) 

He was having this week to himself. How is that different to other weeks, I wondered? CharChi is in the dog home. Yes, I know, kind of a strange take on dog ownership. Anyone else wanting a week to themselves would have their dog with them just as a matter of course. A dog usually has privileges others don’t. But not CharChi, the moment David feels stress of any kind, she is booked into the dog hotel.

When I questioned him, he said he just wanted relief from the responsibility of CharChi for this week. How hard is it to scoop a cup of chow from a bag and dump it in a bowl, I wondered? It’s not like he prepares raw meat meals for CharChi like Sam does for Buddy and Brun. 

What? You take her to belly dancing lessons and soccer practise on a Saturday morning, that I don’t know about, I asked. 

No, apparently not.

Anyway, this week was going to be his. Except, his friend Smythe decided to come and visit on her way from Mullumbimby where she had been living on her way back to Melbourne. David told her right from the outset about his plans for the week, and that she couldn’t stay.

Then, she couldn’t get a flight until the following day, so she asked if he knew any good hotels in the area and he relented and said she could stay for one night. 

The following day she slept in and hadn’t booked her flight. Too busy with a face mask, cotton wool between her toes as she painted her toe nails and read her tarots, burning incense, listening to Enya. And she couldn’t then get a flight until the next day because of her sleep in.

So, we’re already at 2 nights.

So, the next day came, and David informed her early that he was going to Ballina to run some errands and she had to pack her stuff and get in the car as he’d be dropping her off at the airport, she had to leave.

He dumped her in Ballina close to the shops he wanted to go to (probably a chemist to get a script filled, knowing David. I say to him that replacing illicit drugs with prescription drugs is not really kicking a drug habit, but he doesn’t see it) and came home.

Now, somehow this related to his drug binge at our place last year, whenever that was, when I, allegedly, kicked him out. 

He had a Sunday flight to Brisbane to start some project up there. He came out Sunday morning a wailing mess (usually, the end result for David after a meth binge) “I’ve missed my flight, I’ve missed my flight.”

“Oh,” I said. “What time was it?”

“It’s not for 2 hours, but there is no way I can get myself together and catch it. It is hopeless.”

Now, I don’t know if you have much experience with Virgos, but 2 hours to the airport is completely doable no matter what the circumstances.

“It’s 30 minutes to the airport, I’ll have you on that plane, don’t you worry about that.”

I’m pretty sure he started to cry again.

I took him (by the hand) to his bedroom, stood over him while he packed his bag, taking no nonsense in the process. He blubbered the whole time.

“Where is your phone?”

“Here,” said a wan voice.

“Call an Uber.”

“Oh, I just can’t…”

“Do it!”

“What time will I say…”

“Now! Next available.”

Surprisingly the organised David who has made a great success out of his life flashed momentarily, and he handled the Uber booking with aplomb. “Akmad, is on his way,” he said. (Back to misery)

We made a quick check that he had everything, with David still teary. (good thing I lived with him, however long ago that was, and I was well aware of his come down shenanigans)

“Pick up your suitcase and come with me. And I led him to the footpath.

A black 4WD pulled up 5 minutes later. 

“Give the man your bag.”

“Huh?”

“In your hand”

“Get in.”

“Oh… er.”

“Back door’”

Kiss, kiss.

And he made his flight with time to spare.

Anyway, he apologised for this behaviour.

Friday (Actually, Thursday, But Let's Not Let The Facts Get In The Way Of The Story)

I headed off for my walk early. It looked like it was going to rain when I left the house, no, it was raining just slightly when I left the house, but the sun soon came out.

I zig zag down Gertrude Street crossing over the street and then re-crossing over the street to avoid the milling crowds of the great unwashed around the various coffee bars all waiting for their take away coffee. I often wonder, don’t you people have stoves and coffee pots, but I digress.

So, I’m often walking closely to parked cars as I manoeuvre the street and those within.

There was a Ford Ranger, twin cab ute, used by tradie types, parked in Gertrude Street, with a pair of white and gold board shorts and a pair of black undies still inside the board shorts on the passenger seat still in the shape of the guy who took them off, as though he’d just taken them off moments before standing with the passenger’s door open. I imagined they were still warm.

It bought back those memories of driving down the surf coast on The Great Ocean Road on Xmas holidays and seeing all those surfers bare arsed getting changed into their wetsuits in the morning, or out of their wetsuits in the late afternoon, at the backs of their vans. All those hot boys ran through my mind. Funny the things you think, hey. 

The sun shone and a slight breeze blew. The park was gorgeous. There was a couple walking a couple of wolves. There was a girl who walked passed me on the plaza some ten metres away and I could still smell the strong scent of her perfume. There was a hot boy in tight blue track pants walking his Vizsla, both he and the dog had the same bandy-legged walk as though both their balls were too big for them. The middle aged Chinese ladies were exercising to music in the plaza on the farther side of the museum, a hangover from communist indoctrination, but a healthy one for sure.

I was listening to ABBA’s new album, Voyage, because David insisted that my previous review, “It’s elevator music, luv,” wasn’t adequate enough for his liking. (Still, there’s my sister’s Xmas present sorted. She was an ABBA fan as a girl, yeah sure it’s a stretch but it’s a tick on the Xmas list none the less)

Exercise done, I can spend the rest of the day on the couch with Brun. Big smile.

Brun and I were sitting on the couch this morning at 6am when were heard a Gsssh, Gsssh, Gsssh, which sounded like it was right above our heads. Brun sat there with his head tilted and his serious bulldog face on, as I jumped up and headed outside to see what it was. 

Well, I knew what it was.

The big balloon sounded like it was furiously hitting the gas to rise up over the houses, but it didn't look like it was succeeding.

I was just about to rush out the front to see what was happening, when, you know, it was early and I hadn't had my first coffee and I thought, Nyr, who cares, I'm heading back to the couch, it was probably going to be fine, and if not, I'd see it on the 6pm news.

Bette Midler doing, Why Bother, came into my head, and I chuckled, as I headed inside.

And then I went and watched Bette Midler on YouTube. You know, if ever I need cheering up, not that I needed cheering up this morning, I go and watch Bette Midler on YouTube, and as gay as I am sure that probably sounds, it’s true. She is joyous in what she does.

Not that that has anything to do with this morning, but there you go, next time you are down, give the Divine Miss M a go, better than my friend David’s Valium habit, I can tell you. Certainly cheaper.

Spring Rain

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. That was what I woke up to.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. It rained the entire morning. 

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. Good thing I like the rain, hey.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. Everything wet, everything glistened.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. It played glockenspiel on the roof.

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. It filled the pond, the fish smiled.

Rain, rain, rain. It turned the colours in the garden rich brown and green.

The sound of rain is romantic, don’t you think.

Spring rain is wild, unpredictable and swell.

Long, slow spring rain up against the wall. Wink, wink.

Lunch time the sun came out.

There was a sunny window in which we took the dogs for a walk.

I was behind my computer all day and half the night.

That was when the sky opened up again and the rain fell down.

It was so hard, it sounded like an army marching across the roof.

I wondered which parts of Melbourne might be flooding as I listened to it fall?

It got heavier and heavier and heavier, and then as suddenly it came down, it stopped again.

Spring rain.

I Fell Down

I fell over in the street, stupid me.

Brun had just taken a dump. It was rubbish night so there were bins out on the street. I dropped Brun's green baggie into the nearest bin on the road next to a tree (the trees in our area are on the road) and turned back to the footpath. There was a tree root sticking up in the dirt around the tree and I just didn't see it.

I went straight down. I don't think that has happened since Buddy was a relative puppy and he walked across my feet and tripped my up, and Bud will be 11 in 4 weeks.

Actually, it happened in Paris, when were we in Paris last, 2017? Was it 2017? I picked up new multifocal lenses the day before we flew to Europe, and I wasn’t used to them, and I completely didn’t see a gutter. Splat! Face first onto the road.

Oh, it is a terrible feeling, when you know you are going over and there is nothing you can do about it.

So, I put my hands out to stop myself and I landed mostly on the pointer finger of my left hand, I felt it bend under my weight. My shins went down in the gutter and I bent at the knees and landed face down. My pointer finger burned with pain and was badly bruised and kind of misshapen for a while.

Surprisingly, apart from my finger and the palm of my right hand, and my knees smarting ever so slightly, nothing else hurt too much.

And, my finger recovered pretty quickly, I guess, because I didn't really break any skin, my nail took most of the brunt of it all. (I guess that sounds a bit weird, but it was completely scraped when I looked down at it, kind of like the time Auntie Dawn side swiped her Mark 2 Jaguar on that bluestone wall) Slight bleeding around one side of my finger nail but that didn't really amount to much anyway.

Bud was just standing there looking at me with his serious face.

"Come on, let's go."

The Nightly Whingefest

Thank the lordy do dah day (I love that expression, one of my old aunts used to say it, and it reminds me of her) that the nightly whinge fest from business has finished. I am always surprised that Australian’s have a genuine concern for business and how it is going to cope in any particular situation, when all business does to us is obscuration and con us with their sales tactics and products, conspire to keep our wages from rising, or actually cut penalty rates. Business does not have our best interests at heart. (a bit like our terrible Prime Minister, what an embarrassment he is to us) They lie to us and try to cheat us. I’m not sure why we have business’ best interests at heart?

Why do Australians have a genuine concern for business in this country? simple answer, they have been conned.

Too many successive conservative capitalist governments who have brainwashed us into believing businesses counts over everything else... because Australian governments get donations from business to push business interests ahead of the general population.

I'm glad we have opened up specifically for that reason, no more whinging on the nightly news.

“We need a pathway out.”

“We need a plan.”

“We aren’t going to survive.”

It’s all about us.

I need a new Bentley.

I need a bigger boat.

Workers are our biggest expense.

Screw the workers over…

… it has to be done.

Pass the costs on.

We’re not wearing the increased costs.

Margins, margins, margins…

Me, me, me…

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

 

Ah, pretty, don't you think. An ecosystem in miniature, what do you think? Imagine shrinking down and disappearing into that. Imagine that?

Or Maybe I Just Need Bigger Ears?

You know one good thing about coming out of lockdown, and the general relaxing of the rules, is when I got for my morning walk, I no longer have glasses, and headphones, and a mask around my ears.

I use bone conduction headphones so the strings of the mask got hooked around the headphones and the arms of my glasses at the same time. Grrr! In a tangle, right where I couldn’t see any of it. Grrr!

Too many things hooked around my ears and I was forever catching my glasses as they plummeted down. I developed a good right hook, it is true, but it is much easier now without that damn mask hanging around my face.

And I was pro mask, don’t get me wrong, but it is so much easier now we don’t have to wear them.

I guess it says something about us, that we can't be as bad as our actions suggest, when the sweetest guys on the planet love us so.

 

On my morning walk, there was this Lilly just having bloomed. 

Lovely isn't it.

Don't you think it looks like it is made out of kitchen towel?

Scott Morrison is a Liar

Morrison doesn't seem to have any qualms about looking like a liar on the world stage. He is talking shit to people who know he is talking shit, and he appears to be doing it for his domestic political aspirations, which is parochial and unstatesmanlike.

He really does seem to be a shameless liar.

Rob Died

A Friend of mine who has been battling cancer going on a couple of years died this morning. It just seemed like the universe got this one wrong, as Rob was a lovely guy, happy, friendly, nice, everyone loved him. He had a positive attitude to life, he was always up beat. He just didn’t seem like the guy who should’ve died of cancer, he should’ve been allowed to keep on giving. We need more people like him, not less.

The universe should’ve taken me, I’m a miserable old curmudgeon. Funny, when I told that to Mark, he quietly said, no I don’t agree. You gotta love ex-boyfriends.

Not that I’m offering to take his place, or anything, you understand, I just think the universe could’ve picked better.

Rob and his boyfriend, Matt, just got married a week ago. I assumed there was gonna be some family trouble with Rob’s will upon his death, but that might just be cynical old me. Why else would you get married? A week before you die. What’s the point? I ask you? But then I don’t really get the whole marriage thing as we all know.

You know, a year, or so ago, Rob could have passed for 35, with his blonde hair and good looks, recently he’s looked 75. So quickly. He has a great life, a job he loves, plenty of money, and a boyfriend he loves, and who loves him. He lived a healthy life, he exercised, he didn’t drink, or smoke. He did everything right. It just seems so unfair.

You know, to all those space cadets out there who say everything happens for a reason, okay, what is it? It doesn’t. Life is random. And you only get one shot at it. There is nothing after this. When your time is up, it is up. There is no reason for it.

Sunday

Breakfast - oats, banana, sultanas, honey and cows milk (I feel like you have to differentiate now a days) 

Then its cleaning day. It's Sunday morning, what are you thinking, it is time to clean the house. Sam's orders. You know, it is probably good, as I don't tend to clean until I see the tumble weeds blowing through the house.

Then it is time to take the dogs down to the river to let them run free with all the other dogs running free down the river. First Sunday out of lock down, I guess, half the city will be down the river running free. (a few hours later, it was really quiet down the river, it is a long weekend, the first after lockdown, people must have left the city)

The sun is shining, it is a lovely day. I've been out in the garden drinking coffee. Oh, I could lazy away the day from my position on the back veranda.

Still, there are things to be done.

Haircut

I got a haircut, we got a haircut, after 3 months, we needed haircuts. I had longer hair than I have had in I don't know how long. 

We didn't eat breakfast, just coffee, it was the first Saturday out of lockdown and we wanted to get to the hairdresser early.

There was a queue at the hairdresser, even at 9.30am Saturday morning. I sat down in the chair and shuddered when I looked at myself in the mirror. I mean, I have looked at myself in the mirror in the last 3 moths, but that mirror at the hairdresser is so close up and in your face. 

And now it's done. My neck felt cold all day, kind of good cold, pleased to have a cold neck good. I keep rubbing my hand through my hair, it always feels good after a haircut, and it has been a long time since I could do that. 3 months. Funny the things you miss.

We ate Yum Cha afterwards , where there was a surcharge for weekends , and a surcharge for paying by card, ah, the brand new world.

MacBook Pro

The new MacBook Pro has been released. Finally, it looks as though they have fixed the problems that affected the old model. Sadly, I bought the previous dud model, the 2016/2017 MacBook Pro, with the faulty keyboard and the dud screen, both of which I have had repaired. The keyboard three times, not at my expense, and the screen has been replaced, for which I had to pay.

So, what do I do now? Do I buy the new model, because I still have the shit keyboard, it has only been replaced 3 times with new versions of the same crap keyboard. Does buying a new one kind of reward Apple for selling a shit laptop at a premium price?

So, while I haven't had to pay for any of the three keyboards - the current keyboard is starting to show all the problems of the previous three - I did have to pay for the new screen, a known fault with the model I have, which cost me over $1000, which made my dud MacBook Pro even more expensive than the premium price I initially paid for it.

So, what do I do?

Sunrise this morning. I was up early and I nearly missed it, but I just caught sight of the glow beyond my lounge room window at the last minute. So, I headed out to the bakery with my camera, except I wasn't getting bread, and I only had Explorer socks on and no shoes, so I don't know what people thought, except there was nobody else around, so nobody thought anything, it was only 6am in the morning, after all.

Cute jogger in the park. I was taking photos of flowers and he jogged by and I had my camera out, so... those black shorts fitted him well.