As if I haven't got enough trouble with MM (tm) who rings at strange hours with stranger stories and then says she's going to sleep now but always wakes up to start the cycle again.
The weather. I know it's Melbourne and it's still spring and we can have 48 season changes in 24 hours but give me a break.
Sun and warmth this morning so I hauled the kingsize wool filled doona out to the line for a sunbake which is supposed to kill all manner of germs, mites and mould that are using it for b&b.
Suddenly it's all cloud and rumblings and not my stomach but actual thunder. Damn I'm in the middle of another batch of leaf bundles (bloody council) and I have to gallop, well, hurry quite as fast as the tin knees will carry me round to the line.
I'm having a problem with the Hills Hoist. It has developed a lean to one side and has decided to rotate only one way. Bolshie bloody Hills. So the doona is on the opposite side to me and I reach up a give the line a good swing to bring it round to starboard. It rebounds like a whale researcher off a Greenpeace protester and nearly takes my head, arm and fingernails. AND it's raining AND lightning AND thundering and I'm trying not to drop the doona in the bindii that masquerades as a lawn.
I have scratches from branches, bruises from tree trunks and insults from the Hills and Mother.
I am an inch away from hiding under the bed until next year. If it wasn't for Kevvie's promised loot which I now intend to spend entirely on gin and chocolate, I'd be going under except I haven't vac'd under there for a loooooong time and I wouldn't want to disturb the ecosystem.
I had one of those nights this week when I didn't want to put my feet out of the bed. We all have those nights, don't we, don't we, right?