And sometimes I don’t mind having no plans whatsoever for the weekend.
It’s been a torrid week. Glad to see the back of it.
I love the way they look but I never knowingly eat fresh strawberries. Just don’t like ’em.
However, strawberry gives the most beautiful red. Cheers me up. And sometimes, I almost want to grab a marker pen and draw on smiley faces.
The Luna Park ‘face’ doesn’t exactly match Luna, goddess of the Moon, does it? Did the person responsible get confused with ‘loony’ instead?
It’s late. I’m sitting in the dark with my Mac, thinking about the day that was, watching the twinkling lights in the distance, thinking about the day that will be tomorrow.
Switch off, switch off. Switch. Off. Willing myself. Knowing that sitting in front of the screen is not one of the things recommended for those who are chasing sleep.
I wish I was a pooch sometimes. I’d never have to worry about minding my Ps and Qs, about being patient or holding back when what I really want to do is tell someone exactly how annoying he’s being. And how the problem we have today could have been avoided a month ago, if he’d only just paid a-fecking-ttention. (I’m sorry, I did indeed allude to this last week, but you see, the issue is still stalking me, so I hope you’ll forgive me my annoyance.)
It’s too infuriating/boring to detail. But not only have I lost hours at the office, I’ve also lost sleep over it. Right. I did say ‘infuriating’. Especially at 2am when one is tossing and turning and wishing – just wishing – for the zzz’s to take over.
The dog in the photo went absolutely mental when I walked past the gate. So did his dark brown friend (whose paw is barely visible). As I said, I wish…
On the wall outside Brett Whiteley‘s studio in Surry Hills
…Life does sometimes leave us a bit charred.
But the thing is, we’re still in one piece.
Rightly or wrongly, I always associate white blooms with Domestic Goddess… which is so what I’m not, however these beauties are what I currently have at home.
The weekend is upon us and once again, I am trying to fit in chores before I allow myself outdoors. Does anyone feel resentful of the full laundry basket? Do people scowl at the sight of unwashed dishes? I swear I would be quite happy to eat out every night if it meant I could do away with washing up. I dislike the fact that I spend time inspecting the bathroom sink and the counter for water stains, the detritus from the Hub’s daily beard trimming (obviously I leave no mess whatsoever – ha!), etc. And do NOT even mention the vacuum cleaner. That appliance makes me angry beyond all sense and reason. I hate vacuuming much much much more than toilet scrubbing. Now, that makes no sense at all, does it?
We live in a one-bed, one-bath apartment, tiny by suburban standards but sufficient for inner city living so I haven’t been able to justify engaging a house cleaner. Correction: I got vetoed by the Beard-Trimmer. So guess who gets stuck with the bulk of the cleaning.
That’s right. I am having a full-throated whinge.
Which brings me to the soundtrack for this post. Lanie Lane’s To The Horses. She mostly sings about man problems, but in my world, his name is Dyson.
There are weeks when you all you can do is walk, keep walking. Hopefully, it’s through the park with the whiff of springtime in the air.
I had a nice surprise when I discovered my sister had mentioned me in a recent post. I try not to think about missing my family too much. But I do. If I indulged that thought, I would struggle, much more than I already do with being my Perth-based family’s lone satellite in Sydney.