Category: miscellany

One night, I texted one of those numbers they advertise after half past nine to find out the name of my perfect match.

John.

If I’d known there was a chance I could sit next to Rhys Muldoon, I might have applied.

I’ve moved into my garrett. I do love it, though it is very squooshy. The dog likes it.
My computer keeps telling me that my disk is nearly full. Given the events of last time, I know that I shoud be taking this more seriously than I am.

Our boys are allowed two hours of computer time on the weekend (altogether not two hours each). We have been shaped. These last two are directly related. I’m trying to refuse to go to unlimited broadband.

There is much more interesting stuff involving domestic conflict directly related to the Christmas Pageant, the moustache and the iceberg roses and I will tell you more about all that later, but for now, I really must work.

If, unlike me, you would like to offer the mister some support in his fundraising efforts, let me know and I’ll email you the link where you can make online donations. Honestly!

And finally: at the suggestion of fern: anyone want to buy an iceberg rose bush (there’s six in all, I think)?

…I’m totally in love with Jo*n C*sack, but honestly High Fidelity doesn’t stand the test of time.

Last night, I did this. And today, I wandered around Carlton, having a jolly fine time, but wishing that after I said to the mister last week maybe I should get in touch with some blog people when I’m in Melbourne that I had ignored his ill-informed comments about always hiding behind a computer screen and followed through. Next time, shall we have a cappuccino? My shout.

Now I am exhausted from a week of nerves and too little sleep, because for some reason, I always wake up early after such things. And of course, I stayed up too late watching rubbish on cable television and eating the punnet of strawberries I had bought from the market earlier that day, in anticipation of staying up too late watching rubbish on cable television and wishing I had something to eat.

Also, it’s school holidays here, so I haven’t been on the computer much what with one thing and another. There’s a beagle asleep in the lounge. As for names, let’s just say that my suggestion – Brett Ebert – only got the one vote.

Did you watch Rain Shadow? It was good, wasn’t it? I really did want to watch that thing about the women who went to the abbey, but I’m off to bed. To sleep. Hopefully that beagle won’t be scratching at the laundry door when we finally harden our hearts and banish it for the night.

Back soonish.

UPDATE: I forgot to tell you that I was greeted at the airport by youngest boy saying ‘and he’s done three pisses on the floor’. He’s done a rather large number since then. Is it toxic, dog wee?

Honestly, what a whinger. I do apologise. It’s just, you know, I really was trying to get the house vacuumed. Anyway, having recently discovered that I am in fact one of the happiest of all Australians, I thought I’d best buck up my ideas, so herewith another burst of randomness:

• once the chisel, which seems to have been fashioned at precisely the diameter to zoom up the hose and precisely the colour to then disguise itself as a butterfly valve of some sort thus inviting you to push it a little more firmly into the hose, had been removed from the hose of the vacuum cleaner, the vacuum cleaner once again worked – can I suggest that you keep a pair of those children’s chopsticks on hand – they have an excellent reach and grip;
• it’s nice to know that people searching for such information as ‘can you catch botulism from vacuum cleaner dust’ have this blog to keep them entertained as they cruise the web looking for a more reliable source of such information, because in truth I don’t know, though very much hope that the answer is no;
• it is pleasing to know that Baxter – Australia’s first purpose-built detention facility – is about to be closed, though the pleasure is somewhat lessened by the reasons given for said closure;
• we have reached a family agreement that there will be no more balloons on sticks gathered from the market or any other establishment, and if all promoters could heed this agreement, we would greatly appreciate it – to be honest, those things are so fucking annoying that I am more inclined to boycott your product than support you in any financial way;
• I spent forty dollars at the Market Arcade Haigh’s this morning, and although it was all presents, it still made me happy;
• the man who delivered the replacement worms for the worm farm yesterday had to hurry home, because he had a new chook and didn’t want to leave her on her own for too long;
• the washing machine which we bought from the mister’s sister for fifty bucks (or so) ten years ago has never even needed a service;
• I am taking great pleasure in the gold good luck cat with the waving arm that Eldest Boy and I bought at the market this morning to present to my newly engaged cousin and his affianced – I very much hope that it does bring them ‘happity and happy hocks’;
• the bathroom hasn’t been cleaned for a while, but isn’t too bad.

If I could be anybody for a day, right now I’d be dogpossum. Actually, I’d want two days as her. Last Saturday and Sunday. And then I’d try to convince the genie to give me a couple of days either side of that as well. And then I’d be myself again so that I could catch up on my sleep.

Oh, look, I am myself, with proofreading to do.