I really shouldn't be allowed out on my own.
I managed to vote and confuse the card handouters by saying I was swinging until I actually had the pencil in my hand.
VoteRage was close as the silly tart in the booth next to me asked her husband to make sure she'd filled the ballot out correctly. I nearly screamed 'It's the 21st century you imbecile, women have died for that vote you can't cast without a bloke around!'
I calmed down after an egg and bacon roll and a think about how many elections I've been to at this school and let the memories wander around. I didn't see anyone I knew but then these days I can't remember their names anyway.
So being halfway to the bus I continued in the interest of exercise and the promise of cake. I do have to incentive myself. (shuttup, I know it's not grammah)
Bus to Mentone, accomplished.
Bus to Southland, accomplished.
Shock at crappy Christmas decorations and prices for presents. I keep forgetting that not everyone is a pensioner and has money to spend.
Check every five minutes that I still have my umbrella and no-one has nicked my purse which has the cake money in it.
Find two pairs of silver thongs on special at KMart and a box of chocolates.
Have ice coffee and cake, loving the sitting down right in front of the cake display.
Down the elevator to the bus stop with the ticket still in time.
Thank Crispin there aren't too many people around to see me drop the bloody umbrella and fall flat on my face off the bench as I bent to pick it up.
Do the usual crawl and lift my lardarse back on the bench.
Decide not to catch the bus and walk home.
Walk to the taxi rank and get drenched in a shower, forget I have umbrella.
Lovely, taxi is there.
Not lovely taxi is wheel chair cab.
Do my impression of Tarzan and throw myself into the back.
Home in time to miss teeming rain which would have drowned me if I'd caught the bus.
The thongs are from the Goldilocks range, one pair is just a little too big, the other pair is just a weeny bit small. Christmas is Crap.