More On The Fridge

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

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

She has gone away to speak to her supervisor.

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

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

Monday Problems

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday is For Reading

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

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

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

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

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

A Day At The Golf Course

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

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

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

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

The Exorcist of God

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wrote my journal, then I wrote my blog.

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

A Glorious Morning

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who Messes Up The Dishwasher

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, we didn't."

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

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

"You ask him," I said.

"You ask him," said Sam.

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

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

"No, not particularly," I said.

"Well, there you go," said Sam.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

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

"Huh?"

Sam just gazed back at me without answering.

In The Gym

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it was back to work.

Sunny Monday

I'm embracing my Kindle and buying books to read, rather than wasting my life on YouTube. I just can't spend the rest of my life mindlessly scrolling YouTube for something interesting. I almost feel like I become part of the problem when I continue to do that. It just adds to that uncomfortable suspicion that I have really wasted my life.

I have finished One Thousand Miles from Care, so it is time for something new to read. The problem with Kindle is that there is no book shop into which to wandered to peruse the colourful titles on the shelf.

So, I typed in Tim Winton, I had just read an article in the Guardian by him about climate change. He’s written a novel Juice. It sounded good, but I really want to read to escape.

I decided on Eyre a novel by Time Winton that is a few years old now.

I also typed in Sam Shepard, Christos Tsiolkas, and Patricia Highsmith. My list of authors has become a little rusty with me having been hijacked by online news/platforms over the last few years.

I struggle a little to think of more, all the time ignoring the two huge bookcases of novels I have read in front of me. Duh!

I think of Bridget O'Connor and that fabulous book of short stories Here Comes John, about which I was so excited only to discover she had died quite young of breast cancer. I typed her name in anyway. There is another collection of her short stories, but it reads like it is compiled from previous collections and not new stories as such. I'll have to research that a little more.

Anyway, I'm now sitting at my work desk enjoying a little Tim Winton, feet up on a footstool, having got all my work done. Otto is asleep on the couch behind me. The sun shining in through the window. Brun is through the atrium, sleeping next to the ottoman in the lounge room looking in my direction, well, he would be if his eyes were open. He rolls over to realign himself with the patch of morning sun on the carpet coming in through the window which had moved with the passing morning.

You Made Her Very Happy

I am walking up Bourke Street this afternoon with Brun and Otto having left Sam at the hairdresser. The wait at the salon was uncharacteristically long. Sam said it was because it was all women in front of him having woman's hair done. Sam usually has his haircut while I wait outside with the woofs, then we swap when I have my hair cut.

Brun, Otto and I are crossing Exhibition Street and I can see a couple on the other side of Exhibition Street looking at us intently. As we get to the other side the lady asks if she can pat my bulldogs.

“Sure,” I say.

The lady crouches down and pats Brun and then pats Otto, as she does she holds their faces and gently tells them they are beautiful. She stands back up and thanks me wiping tears way from her eyes. She turns away. Her husband says that she lost her bulldog two months ago and that I had made her very happy. I just smiled. It was kind of nice.

Therapy dogs, I wonder.

It was a moment on the corner of Bourke and Exhibition, just us three. (well, five) I smiled at the husband, he smiled back, then he turned and took his wife's arm. I turned and took my Brun and Otto's leads in my hand, glancing down at them as they turned and followed me up the hill.

I Joined The Gym

There, I did it, I joined the gym, so that's done. I got it done this morning, after we washed Brun and Otto. I don't know why I get anxious about such things, but I always seem to with things I am doing for the first time. I've joined gyms before, of course, but not that one, that's the first time bit. It is the first time I’d been in that gym. 

I don't know if that is just me, or if everyone gets anxious with such things? Does everyone else? I don't know. I can only speak for myself, of course.

Yeah, I know, of course, there is probably a spectrum of reactions from a spectrum of people. Some people would tackle new things without breaking a sweat, some people probably need therapy to get through it. I can do it, but I get nerves in my stomach and I feel out of my comfort zone.

In the end, I just have to set a course, usually at the last minute, that always seems to spur me on, you know, makes me do it, when I seemingly have no other choice left. Then I always get it done. Whatever it is? But that isn’t quite as simple, or stress free, as it sounds.

Curly Tops who led the interrogation, er, introduction was lovely. The fact that he was nice looking didn’t hurt either.

We walked the dogs to Carlton for lunch. Through the park. Thai in Lygon Street.

I even went and did a gym work out, after lunch. So, how was that?

There. Done. Girl trainer will be pleased, or at least not disappointed.

It was LouLou's birthday, so I rang her at 8am and sang her happy birthday. As the phone was ringing, I did wonder if it was too early, but then LouLou answered croaky voice and all. She said it wasn't too early, she's looking after some kids and they'd been trying to get her out of bed since 6am. 

"You are my first birthday wishes," she said. "I guess now I should get up."

Well, That's That

It's a public holiday today, the day before the footy grand final. Grrr!

I was going to go join up at the gym, but it's not attended by staff on a public holiday.

Oh, I am so slack. Can you believe it, all the days I could have gone and joined up, any other fucken day truthfully, and I leave it to the last minute when it is some bogan public holiday.

Damn it!

I so often need the pressure of the 'last minute' to get me to do stuff. I have always been like that. I need some pressure greater than me to prompt me into action, otherwise I just let things pass.

I can go tomorrow, of course, and I guess I will have to. Go on the weekend, it's not ideal when I have days off during the week.

Really, I am so fucken slack.

It was a glorious day today, it sparkled. We ran the dogs down by the river. It was really lovely to be out in it with no pressure to do anything else. I love the lack of pressure to do anything, it is invigorating. 

I was going to go for a bike ride, since I haven't done a second workout for the week, but guess what I did instead? I bet you can't guess?

I slept on the couch with Brun cuddled up to my back like a hot water bottle. Girl gym trainer will be pleased.

I woke up just in time to catch the 6pm misery hour. Good job, Christian.

Brun got the all clear at the vet yesterday. He and I are now in bed together. Sam is downstairs watching Aqua Man. All those super hero movies are just shit, I can't watch them. I don't even think Jason Momoa is anything special, certainly nothing to look at. But, you know, I'm sure he probably thinks the same about me. Chuckle.

Off To The Doggie Eye Doctor

I'm off to the doggie eye doctor today with Brun. His eyes are better, the problem all seems to be cleared up, so good job to my favourite doggie eye doctor.

And now it seems like an awfully long trip out to the outer suburbs to have her say, "Yes, they look fine. $250 please."

But, that is what you do, they?

Just my contribution to the 33 billion, or so, dollars Australian's spend on their pets each year.

And I could only get a really early appointment, as I like doing these things in the morning to get them done, so we have to leave really early to get there on time.

45 minutes to get there, I guess that isn't so long, depending on the traffic. Brun loves a car trip, though, so, I guess, it isn't total waste of time. Ha ha.

Anyway, just enough time for Vegemite toast before I go.

That is all I have to do today, so I guess I can't complain too much. 9.30am my day should be done.

Up Early Hump day

I get up early, it is still dark. Brun gets up with me and pads down the stairs behind me.

I make coffee. Brun lies out in his super dog pose in the middle of the lounge room.

I take my coffee and I sign into work when it is still 5 something. Okay, it was 5.59am, but still 5 something. Brun comes and climbs up on the study couch and resumes his sleep. He didn't want to go outside, like I suspected he did. 

I answer a few emails. I wonder if the people I email ever see the time I email and wonder why the hell I am doing work at that time? I don't care. Are people even that observant?

Milo comes into the study and glares at Brun on the couch, as if he is willing him to evaporate. He lies out on the carpet and close his eyes.

The day turns light suddenly after 6am. Funny how that has happened when you look up.

I get my emails done, and rejig a couple of spreadsheets. Then I am done until the rest of the company wakes up and logs on.

I open the online news to see what misery has befallen the world.

I contemplate another coffee.

It's quiet. I like getting up early for precisely that reason, not that I have any control over the time I wake up, I just wake up early now a days. I love the stillness of seemingly being the only person moving in my world.

The birds sing outside.

I think of Miss Vic in hospital and the rain starts to fall. Is the world outside responding to my thoughts? I think the birds even stopped singing. I see them in my head with their wings across their chests and their heads bowed.

Brun lets out a snore.

I open my own laptop and write this.

Last Day Together

It is my last day of supervised gym work. We did a lot of increased weights to test the limits of what I could do. I can always lift heavier weights, it would seem.

At the end of the session, I thank girl gym trainer for all she's done. We will keep in contact because the program goes on even without us meeting. There is supervision by an app, remotely as I get the gym work happening on my own.

We have that fleetingly awkward moment when our last second together arrives and we freeze for that millisecond where we think we should do something, oh I don't know, embrace, be thankful over again, have some sort of acknowledgement but neither of us really knows what, then we turn and we walk away and that is done.

I felt kind of sad riding my bike home in the sun shine. The trees waved over head as I cycled through the park. The sky was blue, the sun shone. It was a good day, I thought.

Monday

I message Adriana for her birthday. It is a big one. But, she is in Bali partying and she doesn't care what milestone she is passing.

Partying in Bali, that's Adriana for you.

I wish we were all parting again. Dancing on podiums in Sydney. Dancing under the mirror ball at warehouse parties in Melbourne.

I wish Fergus and Steve and Tom and Antony were still alive and we were all partying together.

I just heard about another friend, the incredible Victoria Brown, in St Vincents in palliative care with terminal cancer. I'd go visit her, I am just up the road, but she doesn't want to see anyone, going away like an elephant to die, I guess. I can understand. There will never be another like her, they broke the mould with Victoria Brown.

So, that is very sad.

I make coffee and contemplate the meaning of life.

I think coffee is as good a meaning as anything.

Life is coffee. I like it.

Miss Vic would say to Adriana, Have one last dance for me.

Sunday Bike Rides and Dog Walks and a Spot of Lunch

I wake up with a dry mouth. I must have been breathing through my mouth as I slept?

What was I dreaming? No, I'm thinking about how dry my mouth is, and the dream is gone, like grabbing water in my hands. It woke me up though, the dry mouth, not the dream.

6am. I was up. It was dark in the loungeroom still at 6am. I didn’t want to turn on the light because the lights are too bright, you know, first thing. Let’s hope no one gets up and gets startled by not seeing me sitting here initially.

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6.30am. I thought, I started watching the shorter Friday addition of Coldwarmotors, but I actually stared watching the longer Sunday version.

Oh, it is Sunday, I think. Then I wasn’t sure what day I thought it was?

7.40am. Brun wanders into the lounge room.

He gets up on the couch with me as I continue to watch YouTube

7.45am. Sam and Otto wander into the lounge room. Otto briefly chases Milo. Sam tells him off.

8am. I make Vegemite toast and coffee.

8.30am. I watch the shorter Coldwarmotors from Thursday which I hadn’t watch.

9am. I go for a bike ride. I am expected to go. Girl trainer will be pleased. Of course, I should go for reasons beyond such expectation.

9:07am. I’ll leave for my bike ride. The sun comes out.

Napier Street > Edinburgh Gardens > Park Street > Royal Park > Dynon Road.

There are so many people walking their dogs in Edinburgh Gardens and along Park Street and in Royal Park.

9.40am. I’m at Dynon Road. The sun is shining as I stop for a moment. I realise they have built a whole new off/on ramp right across where I used to stop at Dynon Road.

I turn for home. Of course, I play a game of Would I Suck You Off with all the joggers jogging towards me. It starts off as definite no’s. No, No. No. No. But then suddenly, it is all yes'es.

There are lots of people with golf carts around Royal Park Train Station, getting in the way, taking up the whole pathway.

10:18am. I’m home again. Otto is excited to see me. He leaps about in his unrestrained puppy way. It’s really lovely. Another living creature showing unrestrained happiness.

The sun is shining.

I have a shower.

I sit on the couch with Otto.

12:03pm. What are you doing come on? Let’s go what are you doing down there… my dictation catches me again, even before I start talking. 

We take the dogs for a walk to The Hive.

It’s overcast with rain, clouds and kind of windy and cool.

We meet up with a Boston terrier as we walk down Victoria Parade, with which, of course, Otto wants to play. Brun takes little notice after a cursory nose sniff. The Boston’s owner says the Boston is a puppy too.

12.30pm. We’re at the Vietnamese eatery. 118 Victoria Street Richmond. We sit outside on the tables on the footpath.

The sun is shining. It is hot sitting in it. I take my hoodie off.

12.38pm. The sun goes away. It is such a spring day. I might have to put my hoodie back on.

Matt calls me to say Victoria Brown is in palliative care in St Vincent’s with terminal cancer spread right through her. She doesn’t want to see anyone, but she’d like those she was closest to, to know.

I breath out long and slow after the phone call. That is very sad. I take a moment to think about her. Life will seem just that little bit smaller without her in it.

Sam looks around, just as the nutter drops his groceries onto the ground, pulls the bedspread over his shoulders like a cape and walks up to the front wall of the Hive and starts yelling at it as if it is a person.

I see a Mercedes with a BMW numberplate. It makes me chuckle.

There is a big, rough looking guy in a brown hoodie – is it brown, or is it just dirty? I’m not sure – sitting on the tram stop seats. Another guy comes along, who looks like a Chinese spiritual guy with a crinkly beard that looks like it has been ironed flat. He sits next to the big rough guy. Moments later, the Chinese guru pulls something from his pocket and hands it to the big, rough guy, who fiddles about with it surreptitiously before sliding it away into his pocket. The Chinese guy gets up and quietly walks away. The big, rough guy gets up not long after and also walks away.

12.51pm. I’m sleepy sitting in the sun. I’ve been really sleepy lately, I wonder what that is about?

1.43pm. Brun, Otto and I are in the entrance to The Hive.

Some old bitch is standing in the entrance to The Hive with me and Brun and Otto with her phone on loud loudspeaker yapping away to some fucker. I so want to tell her to shut the fuck up, well, to take her phone off loud speaker.

1:46 pm. Sam reappears and we crossed Nicholson Street and sit outside Minh Phat. Would you stop getting twisted up in your fucking lead what is wrong with you... my dictation catches me out again.

1.51pm. Sam reappears.

We walk home with grocery bags over each shoulder.

2.15pm. We’re home.

I call Mark and tell him about Victoria Brown. Mark is not well himself at the moment, but we have a laugh.

I do the Facebook thing collecting historic photos. I get lost in that for a while, longer than I intended.

I watch Tasty Classics and his Ford Granada.

5.30pm. We eat yogurt and blueberries for an arvo snack. The day is quickly drawing to a close. Monday morning is rushing up quick.

We ate curry for dinner. It was very nice. I don’t eat the rice, Sam isn’t too pleased about that. Shrug.

We watched The Amazing Race. The Matilda’s are awful to watch. Humourless and serious. How many times have they said they are elite athletes? Over and over. Yes, we get it, you are elite athletes. How many times have they said they hate losing? Hey girls, nobody likes losing? They are just awful to watch, such blokes.

We watched 60 Minutes and flight SQ321. It is a very sad story. The lawyers are trying their hardest to make Singapore airlines responsible, you know, like lawyers do.

Sam wants to re-start the modem, and 60 minutes is dragging out the plane turbulence story until we are starting to look to our laptops and ipads for relief, so we turn the TV off.

Then we do screens.

10.15pm. We go to bed.

I looked at images of Robert Fuller. The actor. He's one of those actors I remember from my past who made me take a second look, if you know what I mean.

10.38pm. Lights out.

That is Sunday done. That is the weekend done.

Lazy Saturday

I only remember the end of my dream, the part where I woke up. ex-bitch-girlfriend, Leah Borg, locked herself in my place, getting in the shower and ignoring me and not letting me in. (I am unsure why she keeps turning up in my dreams?) As I was standing on the very steep steps to my door, which just bought me up to the bottom of my front door, I knocked on the door with my phone, which popped open at the top and I could see that she had taken the sim card out of my phone.

5am. I got up and had a wee, that developed into an early morning shit the way it does only when I am taking Ozempic.

I got back into bed, but the lovely thoughts wouldn’t come, only the negative thoughts and I didn’t fall back to sleep. It isn’t nice to feel like a failure.

5.25am. I got up.

I made coffee.

Milo and I sat on the couch together. Milo is warm against my left leg.

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I watch a lot of anti Trump YouTube until I was sick of hearing about him. He really is like passing a car wreck, you can’t help but look.

I watch Mr cutie pants Rocky Dale Davis standup. He is one, big, hoy boy. Just sexy as.

7.35am. Sick of YouTube, I start reading A Thousand Miles From Care. I have always felt it was a heartbreaking story.

Milo jumps back up on the couch and cuddles up in my blanket, nestling on the blanket between my legs.

8am. Brun was up. Milo jumps down off the couch and runs off. He hears the bulldogs before I do, but I guess he needs to the way the two of them bully him.

8.15am. Sam and Otto were up.

8.30am. I make Vegemite toast and coffee.

I continue reading A Thousand Miles From Care. Ah Scott...

9.45am. I make more coffee.

Sam heads into the study with Otto.

There was a lot of lying on the couch and looking at my laptop first up. News online. YouTube. You know the goings on.

Man arrested in Italy nearly 50 years after two Melbourne women found dead in their home. Victoria police seeking an extradition order for the 65-year-old over the 1977 deaths known as the Easey Street murders.

The great unsolved murder could finally be solved, wow.

I read for most of the day, A Thousand Miles from Care, curled up on the couch with my kindle, and Brun and Otto too.

We ate noodles for lunch.

2:19pm. We take the dogs for a walk. The day is kind of warm. The sky is overcast and grey. We stand on the corner of our street. The wind blows around us.

“What are we doing?”

“Fitzroy Gardens?”

“Nyr.”

“Carlton Gardens?”

“Yes.”

We walked to the Carlton Gardens, once around the park. It was nice, the day cheered up for us as we took our walk.

There was some great huge wedding happening in the middle of the park, with food that didn’t look nearly adequate enough for the number of people present. 

I wondered how long before they get divorced. 8 years is the average, apparently. I thought it would be shorter. But what about marriages with inadequate food at the reception, I wondered?

Then it was home down Moor Street > St David Street > across Fitzroy.

3:18pm. We’re home again.

I read A Thousand Miles from Care until I was sleepy and I slept on the couch, again. I have done a lot of sleeping on the couch just lately. I guess, it is kind of nice really, and I shouldn’t question it. What the hell?

I woke at some point during the 6pm news, but fell asleep again.

I woke at 7.30pm and we ate pizza from Ladro. Capricciosa and a mushroom lovers.

We watched Shaun Micallef's On the Eve Of destruction. Pia Miranda and Zachary Ruane. Humphrey B. Bear and Pia’s grandmothers church book and a collection of Empire magazines and the art work from the first play Zack directed.

I usually find Pia Miranda annoying. A bit of a try hard.

We watched Have You Been Paying Attention, Robert Irwin hosting. Against type, I think Robert Irwin is a cutie. Yes, I’d like to see him in his undies. And yes, also a bit of a try hard.

I watched Vice Grip Garage and his De Tomaso Pantera which had sat for 33 years. Nice red colour. Derek makes me laugh, and isn't that as good a reason to watch something.

10.30pm. Sam and Brun went to bed.

I kept watching Vice Grip Garage and his De Tomaso Pantera, but I kept falling asleep.

12.40am. I’d just woken up again when Sam called to say Brun was on his way downstairs. Brun arrived downstairs moments later. He had a wee, Otto had a wee & a poo and they both went to bed.

1am. I finished watching Vice Grip Garage and his De Tomaso Pantera. Truthfully, I had fallen asleep on the couch yet again and I had to back track to see the end of the video.

1.15am. I went to bed.

I forgot to spray my nose, I think just as I am comfortable. Damn it.

Heal Little Plant

I picked up this plant in the street. Someone had pulled it from its pot/garden bed and tossed it into the gutter.

Sam thought I was weird. "Oh, just leave it there. Why do you want that?"

I didn't really want it. It isn't really an unusual plant. 

But, I just couldn't leave it lying there, all folded over and shrivelling up exposed to the sun and the elements, dehydrating to death.

It didn't cost me anything, it took me minutes, at the most, to put it in a pot and give it some water. I already had the succulent soil ready to go.

It was all floppy and bent over, with its leaves - whatever you call a succulent's leafy bits - drooping down, but look at it now.

I don't know, it felt like a good deed, saving a living thing. Maybe that is crazy?

Rainy Gym Day Curled Up With A Book... er, Kindle.

I was fucked after my gym work out today. Girl trainer pushed me hard on the exercise bike with the resistance pumped right up to double figures. Boy trainer, back from holidays, supervised.

Today was supposed to be my last supervised session, but girl trainer said we had to do tests, or data, or something, still, so I now have one more session next week. 

I was happy for today to be the last session.

I am joining a gym close to home, and I must get around to that rather than just talking about it, so I should be able to keep up the sessions on my own.

That's the theory anyway. Ha ha. No, not the theory, it is what I am going to do. 

I've lost weight. I feel healthier. It is good.

I lay on the couch when I got home and read A Thousand Miles From Care, a book about a gay hate crime in the late 80s, specifically about Scott Johnston the brilliant mathematician who changed the world of mathematics only to be thrown from a cliff by a homophobic low life. I haven't been reading so much lately, I have been taking up my time watching essentially brain rot YouTube. It's nice to read again.

My legs were tired, in the afternoon when Sam wanted to take the dogs for a walk. Well, it had just been raining, and I reckoned it was going to rain again, so I told Sam to take the dogs on his own. He wasn't so pleased.

I can't remember if it rained again, or not.