Tra-la, tra-la...

My mate reminded me of singing four-part harmony on the deck, champagne to hand, a warm sea current waiting to wash any cares away, and the company of good friends... summer holidays, no stress, excellent coffee.... cake, even!

Our weekend hasn't been ANYTHING like that. In fact the only four-part harmony was probably when we were all whinging for dinner at once - a whimper, a request, a mrow and a biff (in LMW-speak biff counts as a complete vocabulary, and I might say is remarkably effective, especially when it draws blood). The cats got the better of it, they got fed. M had to resort to yet another tin of tuna, and I probably ate either muesli or toast. Yes, when in doubt, have breakfast again. I *have* been trying to 'eat the freezer' (defrosting interesting lumps of icy stuff to see what they are), and we've had some fun - the lump labelled "M's potato bolognaise" defrosted into some roast chicken with herbs. Who knows where that mutant bog got to? Bread is easy to identify, and the smaller lumps are invariably yet another packet of gourmet coffee beans. There's a bit of a gap in the fresh veggies and herbs department though..

My crisper is empty. Most of the open packets of pasta, rice, weirdo curry pastes, pickles, rubs, mustards and that bit of wedding-cake icing I forget buying, have gone either down the hatch or in the compost. The bottom of the fridge is so clear of food, all you can see is a row of bottles of grog (now THAT'S an organised fridge, a fridge with its priorities straight).

The linen cupboard got tidied, folded, culled and labelled in a huge Virgo attack some months ago. I've washed all the cotton rugs. I've arranged for new paths around the house to be made while we're away. I've left a life-time supply of cow manure for Alice the Garden. I've mended the washing line, put away all the knitting, piled up all the important papers I have ignored for weeks into a really tidy bundle, thrown out my old sneakers, and looked behind the bed.

I've written CLOTHES HORSE on my right wrist three days in a row, to try to remember to buy one before we leave, because clearly if I don't I will fret all the way around the Baltic States that our house-sitter won't be able to get her stuff dry on our crappy little old one.

We went out this afternoon to have a meeting - a strange marital habit leftover from the days when a step-dorter was involved in the household mix. We used to go out (neutral space) and thrash out any co-existence problems over coffee and cake. There was an agenda, a chair, and a scribe. It took hours. Then the step-dorter would happily announce 'but ya know, cos I'm a teenager, I reserve the right to forget all these agreements sometimes'. Step-mother used to gnash and wail.... anyway, as I said, we had a meeting. We drew up very competent lists of days, items, appointments, chores, memos, reminders and must-dos.
After some pages, I saw that nowhere on my list does it say "PACK". So apparently I am going away for 12 weeks to exciting northern hemisphere destinations with no luggage. Meh. But think what I'll leave behind! - the most incredibly well-organised household, cats, parents, house-sitter, extended staff (gardener, builder, plumber and cleaners), workroom and study.

OK, OK, I lied about the study. I'm going to continue putting things in piles to look efficient and hope-to-fuck nothing important gets forgotten, or rears up as a narstly problem for someone else to fix while I'm gorn. And I'm going to put all the purrfume away in a nice dark place so it doesn't go off while I'm gone. Except for what I take with me. Last time I believe I started out with only two bottles, succumbed to the fun of buying some in mid-air with my shiny new Visa card, and picked up at least one more along the way in a Duty Free shop. My bathroom bag probably weighed about 7kgs. Fortunately it was in those long-gone days when one could carry liquids on board big silver birds. Now I am in a pickle - how to either decide which one to take (one? ONE!!!! I can't survive 12 weeks smelling the same kind of gorgeous every day!!!), or what to leave out from the rest of the packing so I can wrap up lots more in socks n stuff. You see the trials I am faced with?

And, just for fun, tomorrow I must have another shot into my hip, and on Tuesday I must be attacked by a dentist to have a permanent crown stuck in me gob. So the medical habit continues, right down to the line....

Today brought to you by the aroma of Segafredo lattes (thanks to Tilleys), and a strong reminder of yesterday's 'Ange ou Demon' via my bra. From the over-active squirts I applied last night before going out to an extremely spiffo dinner. Nom!

Reaching SILENT SCREAM status..!!

I've been trying to make bookings through the Tiger Airlines (domestic) site, and not only have I failed, but the b@st@rds have LOCKED my credit card.  Because I kept trying to make the payment by pressing AUTHORISE and it kept going boinnngg! and going "ner-ner we won't let you.."....

Which means that A) purrfect dorter doesn't have flights booked for next week, when she's bravely offered to visit us to help with our pre-overseas trip nervous breakdowns, and B) I have to wrangle my credit union tomorrow morning AS WELL AS the eleventy other things I need to do.

Sheesh.

And, waaah, I had three jabs today, so I have three sore limbs.  That leaves one hip to lie on, but not the matching arm.  Could be interesting finding the correct painless pretzel-position in bed tonight!  I had a shot of cortisone into my right hip, which has bursitis or somesuch ow-ey joint problem.  Couldn't be identified on the ultrasound, but as the pressure of the ultrasound thingy was making me yip and leap about on the bed, they observed that it was 'fairly tender' and agreed to do the deed.  Then we charged off to the gp for typhoid shots (going to Bangkok first), and a HepB booster for me cos my immune system (which is usually a very dodgy opurration) seems to have eaten up those antibodies and doc says I needs more.  The practice nurse offered to give us tetanus boosters as well, and was quite keen to give M a pneumovax jab, but fortunately she checked with the doc and he said a very firm no.  Thankyou Saint Steve!

Yesterday our plans for the doing of things was thrown right out of the window when a friend, who came to have lunch, was so ill with side-effects of new and vital medication, that I insisted on driving her home.  She could hardly walk, hardly speak, but on a very wet and dingy day seemed to think she'd be orright driving quite a long way home.  Nope.  I couldn't let her go.

We got a few things achieved, but it was so upsetting to see her in such distress that we kind of found ourselves in Tilleys on the way home, having nice comforting (large) glasses of wine and gins and tonics.  That wrote off the evening quite nicely!  Today's attempt was kind of scuttled by the jabs, which left me needing a nanna nap, zzzzzzzz.  And wrangling airlines is really not very much fun.  Growl growl.  And yes, I am still composing the letter to Mr Branson about our Cairns-Brisbane-Canberra debacle.  Mostly I'm removing adjectives.  It's not safe to send yet.

The purrfume of the day is just the Prada I put in my hair last night.  I was too crumpled and dribbly, when getting ready at the cracked dawn to get to a 9am appointment to have something sharp and nasty done to me.  Perhaps I'll sleep in some Chanel No. 5 Huile Sensual, yes that's a good idea.

Tomorrow I have to look at pavers and pick up my other new specs (which I hope might be the style my father finally approves of.  He's my style guru but I rarely get the paternal nod of approval).  And we must get to the tailor and the chemist and the bra shop and the backpack shop and shit I forget what else.  I think I'll have to change the physio appt for the third time this week, which is probably driving them mad.  Oh yes, because I made the physio time too close to the end of gym.  Heh - do you know how alien that sentence is to my real life??  

Heh.