I've completely lost track of days and time but that's what diaries are for except if they come from England. Now I have to go through and mark all the Australian holidays and unlike my old diary doesn't have the moon phases or times in cities all over the world. I've been using the same brand of diary for 12 years and I hate change but I managed to buy one that has plenty of writing room. Now to cover it because I hate writing in a naked book and I always put extra fabric on the back for the pens so I never have to look for them.
I did not have one iota of guilt for staying home on Christmas Day. I rang mother and my duty was done. It felt so great not having to get up, shower, dress, do hair, grab presents and get out the door. I almost broke my fingers getting the plastic cork out of the 'champagne' only to find it was too vile to drink and I tipped it down the sink. The BOH didn't make last year's mistake and rang to ask what kind of alcohol would I like and I had four bottles of Black Ice vodka in the fridge. I bought two slices of ham off the bone and sourdough bread for the Christmas sandwich and set everything up within reach and put my feet up. I planned on reading parts of my book and watching episodes of the dvd equally. That was the plan but the cat foiled part of it by gently withdrawing the ham from the middle of the sandwich. He never eats this kind of meat but there he was, on the carpet, chewing his way through my treat. It was the only moment in an otherwise pleasant and peaceful day.
Then came the night. I remembered the days when I'd feel so full I couldn't move but now I looked forward to a mince tart and a cup of coffee and enjoyed it. Now for a week or so the cat has been tiptoeing down the drive, around the Acer tree and past Vinnie's car (the last in the row of the Arthur Daley car yard I'm hosting) and then making a rush for the front door. This time I decided to find out what was making him so antsy. Big mistake. The drunken bogans 3 doors up let off illegal fireworks and they didn't have enough power to go up but went sideways down the street past my place. The explosions were explosive even if the stars looked good going fastly past me. The cat took off and I went for the cat, right into the orb web he'd been avoiding all week. Man, I have no idea where that spider ended up but the way I threw it out of my hair, he's probably still in orbit. I backtracked and just put on all the outside lights and opened the doors and stupid came in about 15 minutes later with his eyes still spinning.
And for all the cat lovers who think I should have gone up and had words with the idiots, forget it. Never go near drunks or explosives especially if they are in charge of the explosives. It was re-inforced yesterday when I saw one of them, built like a brick outhouse wearing torn denim and a haircut I last saw on Travis Frimmel in Vikings.
No guilt Boxing Day as mother had accidentally turned her phone off completely. I went down to see her the next day. There had been muffled fireworks a long way off but the cat decided he'd sleep on the bed until the nudge nudge feed me started way too early in the morning. I staggered out, opened the back door, decided a pee was more needed than his breakfast, came back, grabbed his bowl and a can of food, opened that, washed the bowl and had the feeling I was being watched. Now remember this was two days after Christmas so no hangover and the bird sitting on my toaster was real. It watched me, I watched it, stupid sat on the floor still demanding breakfast. A short chase over the counter (not as fast as the mouse) and I had it in a tea towel and out the door. By this time even the dumbest of cats worked out that something was up but he was late as usual so sat by the back door and watched the dumbest of birds fly off. I just hoped when I put the toast in that it hadn't pooped in the toaster.
Three more days until New Year's Eve which I hate with a passion. The cat and I will be in bed early and won't hear any fireworks at all.