So I said ‘well, that’s what they said in the paper’, to which he could only reply ‘it really shits me the way you leave your teabags in the sink like that’.
Isn’t that smell lovely?
It is raining to the point that I might have to shut the window in my garrett.
This, in case you do not live in a city which is so dry that you must pump the washing machine water onto your front lawn, is brilliant.
If you need me, I’m in the backyard. Willing the rain to keep going, because there’s a chance that it will not.
UPDATE: It did not. As you were. With the buckets in the shower.
My birthday present finally gets a run
As all else had not yet failed, there was still no need for the instructions.
Hot March
At half past five when I went in everyone seemed tired. Shoulders stooped, heads down, and no-one ran for the flashing red man.
There was hardly any talk.
But when I came out at half past eight and it was nearly dark, glasses clinked, plates chinked and people laughed out loud.
It really has been hot, and I don’t think I should have worn the same shoes every day
because try as I might, I can find no poetry in shoes that seem to smell even before you take them off
I can feel it in my waters
Because of reasons, I have been having a little to do with Centrelink of late.
The woman said ‘no, you don’t need to inform us of that, it will happen automatically through the Department for this and because of the Regulations for That’.
If that is the truth, then it will be convenient.
But I just can’t shake this feeling that at some point (when I’m busy and stressed with other things and probably have a cold) I will discover that automatically actually meant a little more proactive involvement on my behalf. Even though I was very careful to ask (politely): ‘are you sure?’
It’s so cool, I think I might have to put clothes on after all
Well, really, that last entry was a bit dramatic, don’t you think?
And, you know, there’s nothing like a quick look through your statistics, and especially your google searches to cheer you up.
I am going to write a poem.
It will begin
YOU NOCKED IN THE EGGS
or perhaps that’s how it will end.
At least it has cooled down
Today is one of those days when I hope that I will go to bed a different person to the one I was when I woke up.
But I am confident that I will not.
Actually, I could really use some sleep
Why is it that I took the minutes of the school council AGM about one year ago, but am only now, seven hours before the school secretary needs to photocopy them, typing them?
If you need me, I’m just here. Weeping into the vacuum of time which has passed but was never used.
Enough already
In Adelaide, the crepe myrtle is the iceberg rose of the future which is not quite the agapanthas of the past.
They almost make me happy for jacarandas.