... sigh .... 2020

 Really, this is an unspeakable  year.   

My father passed away.  My other sister has cancer and is doing chemo ( thou ovarian cancer caught early, which is actually awesome, because you don't normally get to catch it early - so actually probablly great)

There have been other gastly things which I've obviously blocked from my memory cause I can't remember them off the top of my head.

One of my musician crushes passed away a few days ago and I only found out this afternoon. 

He once passed unnecessarily closely to my chair at a gig in Brisbane and I got to leer at his rear from an inch away, and then proceded to say sexually inappropriate things on line *smacks wrist bad sammy*.  One of a handful of people whom my occasionally unruly hormones and enthusiasms inspired me to fly for to see.  I even went out in Townsville, where I never feel particularly safe to be inebriated on my own.

RIP Mike Noga

Ps. Could all the other people I adore please take very good care of themselves for at least the next six months.  I'm usually pretty resilient,  but this year is testing me.

Busy busy busy bee

I wish i was in quarantine!
I've wanted a couple of weeks off for years.
8 years to be exact.
Ever since i started working casual.
I have no self control.
Havent managed to save up enough to have two weeks off.
Sigh.
Probably i could if i would, but i cant so i dont.

I've books and boxes wot need sorting and clothes to be bagged, curtains to wash and gardens to dig.

I am quite jealous of the older patients who are mostly self isolating who are telling me about all the gardening they are doing.
Bastards!

Self isolating is my normal state of being except for going out for breakfast.

I sent a picture of my attempt at making my own breakfast to my favourite closed local cafe and they laughed and laughed.

I know when i must be looking particularly frazzled at work, because some very nice person, who has been very patient, will quietly wait for a momentary pause between phone calls, which are few, to tell me something nice or uplifting, like ... "you're doing a very good job", or giving us a random box of chocolates. People are very nice.

A large number of people are now ending conversations or phone calls with "stay safe".

We ran out of face masks for the receptionists at work a couple of weeks ago, but Townsville doesn't really have many cases and the risks are low, so I'm not worried.

I await with interest to see how long the hand sanitiser lasts.  If it keeps on like it is we may make it too the mid or end of April.  I think the next delivery is May.

However, we are doing lots more phone consults now so maybe it will all even out in the end.

I am somewhat more stressed about peoples inability to read signs.

We have red tape.
We have wet floor signs.
We have additional signs taped to the wet floor signs.
We have signs taped to the counter.
We have signs taped to the doors.
We have a large whiteboard in the middle of the doorway with signs as people come in and signs on the walls.
We have lots of signs everywhere, and social media might even count as signs in the air?

We are a plague strewn version of Dr Seuss, but ... we still cannot stop people from leaning on the counter to get in close to talk to us about how they don't want to have to wait because its not safe to linger long inside medical centres with all the sick people.

Easter weekend and i have two days off in a row and hoping to trick myself into being a domestic goddess by talking about all the things i plan to accomplish ...  as if the only thing stopping me being tidy is circumstances and not some illogical mental kink, or maybe a more plain and simple explanation such as lazy lack of interest.

I moved my bed into the longeroom and only rise to go to kichen or bathroom.  The cats love it.  Much snuggling and cuddling, but i really must clean the front rooms and move the bed back into the bedroom, even if it is just for the exercise the five or more steps would achieve, and the sitting up in a chair to watch television which would probably be gooderer for my digestion.

Your feeble domestic intentions are no match
for the dark side.  Leave the bed where it is.
Go on about your business. 

Oh its rainin again ...

I love storm light.

That beautiful shade of gold against blue grey is my favourite.

The storm cloud  rumbles and rushes close crowding out the telly.

Hanging heavy o'er the house.
Intimdating the outside cat.

Well, maybe not so much, but who is not over impressed with the noise and flurry.

Still ... its very green at present.

I wish the mower man would come.

^rant alert^ Oy vey!

I am incidentally watching/listening to Della Smith cook and fuming to the sound of sprinklers and frogs.

My duplex neighbour has boundary issues due to the lack of fence.
He is a very nice man.
Very friendly.
Chatty.
He has worked as a carer for disabled people in the past.
And as a baker.

If i were an elderly lady who wanted someone to do stuff for her, i would be in pig heaven.

I am not an elderly person who wants someone to do stuff for me.

I am a receptionist, at a busy work place, with only two or three people answering six phone lines, whilst also serving many people in a noisy busy open plan space with screaming children and loud people and other people talking loudly behind us whilst we struggle to hear over them; the constantly printing printers which are next to us; and the quite loud fax/copier/printer which is close by. Without the benefit of proper headphones, reduced to clasping the phone to our ears with our shoulder, at badly setup computers with monitors set too low, on inadequate paded chairs, which need replacing and therefore cause both back and neck pain. Not to mention the added noise pollution from the line of people at the pharmacy, situated less than three feet from the desk (and the small children who have seen the lollies on display and far too easy reach, for sale).

Over the course of a five hour shift I may individually speak to 2 or 3 hundred people, whilst scanning, faxing, shredding, not yelling back at rude people, and I really do not want to talk to anybody when I come home.

I don't want them to take my sprinkler from my side of the yard to do their watering.

I don't want them to put their stuff on my side of the yard.

I don't want them to water my side of the yard.
I don't want them to bring my bins in WHEN I AM AT HOME AND CAN DO IT MYSELF WHENSOEVER I FEEL LIKE IT.

I want to be able to step outside, into my side of the yard, without having to talk to someone else or fend off offers to mend my hose wot i dont want mended (and if I  did could do myself) and which i would prefer to be using with the sprinkler wot i bought wot was in my backyard, ON MY SIDE OF THE YARD before they took it and seem to think that is okay?!

Is it because I am a female?

Bring on the thunder, i say.

Let it rain down on me.
Let the rain touch my hair.
Let the rain set me free.
Let it rain down on me.

It is rumbling in the distance and mocking my sudden surge of proprietary home occupancy, aka me watering the dying lawn for the first time in a couple of weeks, probably solely in reaction to my neighbours most recent transgressions.

If i wanted to live in a share house ...
... i would be living in a share house.
... and saving lots and lots of money, ey?


.

2020

Hark! What will the new year bring?

A houseparty full of people singing badly along to country music.

Is it significant that the boys and girls are singing separate parts?
I think it could be a Kid Rock song.