I've just had a weird week
off (with occasional lapses of stupidity where I logged in and checked
my mail for those "important" items). Yesterday afternoon, around 5pm,
with the sun already set behind the glorious Illawarra escarpment, I was
sitting down amongst the absolute mess of my lounge room and wondered what
it'd be like to have another week off. I came to the conclusion that it'd
be absolutely fan-f....ing-tastic. Ofcourse, it's not going to happen but
I can dream the dream of peace, love and understanding (with swaying palms,
exotic voices and a perky cocktail or two) any time I like, thank you very
much!! Unlike this dream, my week off was spent shopping furiously, thinking
fabulously, moving furniture frantically and painting forever. The worst
thing is that the damned painting isn't finished (but I'll worry about
that next week). Probably the strangest event during the week was getting
our wills written : we'd thought about doing this for many, many years
but we decided to bite the bullet, take the bulls by the horns and spit
in both it's eyes!! We chose a solicitor just down the road (who was also
the work mate of an ex-neighbour) and, let's face it, a will isn't that
difficult (I suppose). He was a very, very, very boring man : you couldn't
keep him on the topic of the will. Instead, he'd go off onto some tangent
or another that'd take up hours and hours and hours with only him talking.
I nearly dropped off a couple of times and, at other occasions, I felt
like grabbing him by the throat, shaking him violently and telling him
to just shut UP!! I was very relieved to get the hell outta there - the
will was written up and it's fine and, hopefully, I'll never have to speak
to the guy for a long time to come.
