week from hell at work, it was a weekend of sloth for both Mr H & me.
This morning while we were enjoying our second cuppa in the back garden (we had to go out back to escape Norm) we were visited by a flock of cockatoos.
for some reason, this one reminded me of Nigel Kennedy.
Monday - up before sparrowfart. Small sighting of Mr H in early am. Go to work. Notice corner of sky falling. Prop up with green timber. Hope for best. Home late. Mr H home even later. Tuesday - see Monday. Repeat, except for pm sighting of Mr H, who arrives home after I am asleep. Bird arrives to spend a couple of nights due to temporary work. Wednesday - up before sparrowfart (notice a theme here?). Notice another corner of sky falling, as well as green timber prop beginning to bow under weight of sky. Prop up sky with old board papers. Hitch ride home (late) with Mr H. Thursday - another pre-sparrowfart rising. Wave to Mr H as I am leaving for work. Arrive at work to find not only have green timbers cracked under the pressure, but can feel the whirling vortex of chasing people to turn in late reports sucking me in. Timber is not the only thing that cracks under pressure and I am forced to tell some co workers they are fuckwits. Friday - up and gone before sparrowfart once more. Arrive at work to find pieces of collapsed sky all over my desk. Brush aside and ignore. Don't get to leave work early. Listen to woman bitch out boyfriend entire trip home. Guzzle scotch prior to Mr H arriving home so I will be less cranky; however am now off my tits.
should have bet. Mr H & I am now the proud owner of one green cheeked conure. (Mr H isn't too sure about owning a conure yet.) I can't decide whether to name him Stash or Charlie. Pictures when he gets a bit more used to being around me. And to answer the questions of those who knew Moe, the sun conure I used to own, green cheeks are not as noisy, nor are they as agressive so that means you can come visit me Janniebird & Stash/Charlie won't take a hunk out of your neck.
Woke up this morning to the rain still bucketing down (where the fuck did I put that ark) and the brolly missing off the front porch. Said brolly was finally located down the end of the driveway (the end I didn't look at) and off to the station I went. Only to find, once I had settled in on the train, that I had forgotten my book.
Which was ok, because I had my ipod in my bag.
Except the battery was flat.
That's ok, I thought, because now I have gotten all the bad stuff out of the way early and I can look forward to a productive day.
Except I get called Upstairs at around 10:30 and am informed that the committee papers I thought I had until Thursday to get together now have to be delivered to me no later than 3 pm so I can have them ready for Upstairs by 5 pm.
If anyone asks me why I am in a bad mood, I will have to tell them a house fell on my sister.
I arrive home at 7:45 pm.
But that's ok, because it gives me just enough time to eat and get to bed so I can get up early enough to catch the 6 am train so I can be at work in time for the 8 am meeting I was invited to.
It is also ok because Mr H is out of town so I can eat cheap ramen noodles for dinner and not have to worry about cooking anything.
I get to talk on the phone to Mr H for aprox 5 minutes as he is on his way out to dinner.
He does sign off the phone call with a tender "see you" however.
that there is a picture of a beautiful yummylicious roast chook directly above the cockatoo.
Really, the cockatoo did not meet an untimely end on my rotisserie. Honestly, as my most favorite sis in law says, I am a Noob.
Alas, the weekend is nearly over - this weekend's f.o.b. repast is a rump roast. Mr H & I hope it tastes as good as it looks, because I can tell you right now it looks damn fine.
Tasks accomplished this weekend - nil (laundry doesn't count because I always do laundry, it's like breathing).
We did manage to get to the local Trash & Treasure market where we purchased a fig tree (I don't miss mustafa bin fetish, but I do miss the fig trees) and a couple of plants (I forget the name) as well as a few books and some drill bits, because one can't have too many drill bits (and they were a bargain! according to Mr H). Then it was off to the local shopping centre where I managed to get a decent hair cut for only $25. I was chuffed, especially since the last haircut I had was so bad I spat nails for about 3 weeks. What is it about a bad haircut that ruins an entire month (the time it takes to grow out)? It's not like you look at yourself all day, the poor bastards you work with are the ones that have to see the bad haircut all day.
The other thing we saw at the market was one of these.
Who wants to lay odds on how long it will be before he ends up at casa hamwich?