Wow, things were a little hairy around these parts last night. In fact when I had a late shower I kept the big torch on in the bathroom just in case the lights blew. That's happened to me before and it's very Alfred Hitchcock to be in the shower in the pitch dark.
The lights flickered a couple of times, the glass in the front windows rattled and I heard the patio chairs heading for the back fence. Bedtime saw me at the ready with the mobile phone, small torch and large in case of emergency. Not that the tree would hit the house but it would bring down every wire across the road.
And the insurance hadn't been fixed up but my lovely broker had a cover note on the house until I signed the papers. He ended up getting a good deal for me and next year we'll combine house and contents with the same company. So Westpac Insurance just lost a customer for being greedy and whacking an extra $20 a month on my premium. And fortunately the tree is still standing.
It has been nearly a week since I blogged after the traumatic full moon Friday at the home. I still can't blog about it. Miss O'Dyne was the recepient of the hysterical email when I finally got home. Don't ever diss the full moon effect on the minds of the not-quite-with-it residents.
My mind has been in some disarray with depression peering at me from around corners just waiting to pounce so I've been not in the mood to keep going with the housecleaning. I twisted my spine wrangling a wheelchair last Friday and my left leg looks like I've stolen it from some wandering elephant. And it has not been the ideal weather for icepacks every two hours. The carpal tunnel test didn't take long but I haven't bothered finding out how bad it is. It's not been the weather for hospital news either. Bits of me aren't working well at all. I've given up cappuccino and muffin treats, I'm still off chocolate and shopping was such a chore today that I completely missed the biscuit aisle. And stupid me bought food I'll actually have to cook.
Also depressing is the fact that Mrs R thinks we should all work for $2 an hour, bless her gold tipped miserly heart. I wonder if anyone told the poor workers who've already been shot out of Darryl Lea's vacant shop at Southland. I mean I was hoping they would have a closing down sale of goodies but shop boarded up and all gone. The only thing I really looked forward to at Christmas was their box of candies and nougat. No more soft licorice either. It's a sad world when the sweetie shops close.