It's Friday and I've offerred to go in Monday, cause I want things to go nicely for Office Manager, but can't see how it will be maintained after I am gone.
Area Manager finishes Friday and I WANT to do something nice for him as a present.
In my mind, I believe that hand made presents are more meaningfuly, but in my actual brain I understand that nobody really wants crap handmade stuff. I am battling with my instincts.
Probably a bottle of rum would be more appreciated.
I think I shall paint a picture and a bottle of rum and then the picture can be something that they might like after they have consumed the rum.
The entire bottle of rum.
I am no dab hand at painting.
Never have been.
Yet I persist.
Maybe one day I shall paint something other people will like.
I have liked stuff I've painted for myself. One was inspired by my sister and her first baby. But she never liked it and seemed rather embarrassed by it.
I kept it for years but in this last year have chucked it along with a couple of the others I was fond of.
I have become frustrated with the amount of junk I cart about.
Particularly in comparison with my 90 year old neighbour. I don't think he could be messy or cluttered if he tried.
His lounge room has one chair. One television on a cart and one cupboard. No rugs. No dirty cups. Nada. Nothing. Just all clean empty floor. He doesn't even use the ceiling fans because he has a theory that they do more harm than good and he only uses floor fans.
He is a rental agents dream.
But then again, most of his chat is of times gone past - which I don't mind at all - I quite like the idea of being the person that he can revive his memories with. He talks about his deceased wife and of their trips together. Of how it was for them when they lived in Western Australia. Of their life in Victoria. About how awesome she was at making lamingtons. Of her love of pot plants and how often he whacked his head on the ferns. They were the first things to go when his wife died. Apparently they had lots of garden beds and vegetables when she was alive, but now the yard is all just lawn and things that don't interfere with the mowing.
He talks about when he was stationed in Darwin during the war, and of how he lived on his poker winnings and sent all his money to his wife. He talks of how some of them men would ferment their own booze in coconuts and the various troubles that ensued.
But it would really be easier to keep things clean if I didn't have as much stuff.