Thursday, March 5, 2009

A Week.

Is Over.

It wasn't very good as weeks go. Here are some comparisons:

- the virus sucks. Like one of those horrid alien things which stick over your face and then hatch thru your guts. IckkkK.
- I missed gym once, swimming once, lunch twice, and was generally of great disorder.
- I wasn't very good at being A Prop And A Stay for my M's week of deth, either.
- two of the iceberg roses are definitely dead.
- I fail to understand the higher purpose of couch grass.
- I still cannot taste or smell ANYTHING. And believe me, I have been tested. Bakeries, cat food, lovely hot Vietnamese food, and gorgeous bright yellow omelettes made from happy eggs. All cardboard.

....

- it wasn't too hot, and now it's cool at night so you can snuggle with the doona and the velvet pillows.
- Maccy not only survived his radiation therapy, but is home looking as uselessly furry and squikky as ever.
- the deck has been totally repaired, replaced, nailed and lovingly buffed into purrfection, and wowee! we can walk on it safely.
- St Alex the deck-building, paving and path-making person is friendly, hard-working, honest, particular and decent. This is a very welcome and soothing antidote to the cowboy assholes who have worked on our house in the past, necessitating St Alex!
- my garden is deeply, wildly satisfying. Many grand plans have come to naught, but yesterday I discovered I am to be a mother again - I have a baby self-seeded lemon tree. Apparently most unusual.
- I thought I tasted one of our tomatoes. A hint of greater tastes to come when the old nose settles down.
and
- rehearsing Bach makes up for quite a lot of other things, including the daily grrrind of having faith in the little pink pills even when experience (lately) shows the plan is flawed.

I have many bottles of purrfume waiting for me. Mrs Wendy-puss has enjoyed being an only cat this last week, and has favoured me with her delicate presence lying all over my left leg at night. Many people around me are just plain marvellous. I know that fear can be conquered. Preferably with a steady hand on the Chanel!

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