ISN'T IT SOME FRENCH DAY?

Another week older and my worry lines are beginning to look like anxiety crevases.

I am staying in bed tomorrow, I mean today, with several books which I have gathered up from all over the house. I'm halfway through most of them but they're not that interesting or maybe my concentration flags easily these days.

I have taken over Mum's finances, shopping, medications and putting the rubbish bin out. I can now sign her cheques and generally fritter away her generous pension. I can tear up begging letters which sucker her in every time and especially tear up letters from the credit card bastards who tell her she's pre-approved for another $5,000 credit even though they know from her bank account that she's a pensioner.

I get to go through the pantry and re-arrange the shelves. The Brick Outhouse, being 6'4" uses the top shelf, M, being 4'11" uses the middle shelf. He doesn't look down, she can't look up. This means identical packets of everything being opened on two shelves. He can see the back of the shelves, she can only see the front. Neither look at use by dates. I don't know how they haven't died of food poisoning as some of the use bys, way at the back, are from last century. It's the same with the fridge and the freezer. I want a knighthood for the person who invents a freezer that answers when you ask "What's dying of frostbite in the left hand corner under the four opened packets of peas?" The freezer is now full of food, so it's freshly frozen food but it's this week's freshly frozen food. All nourishing, so what does she have for tea, three party pies.

I would like to bury, up to their necks in Maralinga sand, whoever decided to wrap stupid little thin pieces of cheese in plastic wrap that is impossible to open without a microscope. For company, I will put with them them, the fool who invented tri-pillows. The woman has five pillows on the bed and on top, a tri-pillow. Trying to put a cover on this is like wrestling with an anaconda. It doesn't matter what size the cover is, the pillow expands to fill it. Just for fun, I also get to iron the damn covers and I swear she has a dozen of them.

I really need tomorrow to recharge and to let the wildlife know I'm back. Lazy cat was so warm by the fire tonight that he only gave a passing glance at the two possums that were eating his cat biscuits in the kitchen. I had to get up and hoof them out. My fault, of course, I haven't been putting out their apples and bread so they've decided to eat in. It's 2.30 in the morning and now he decides to go out and patrol the yard and he'll come in and want the bowl filled.

Well that post is done, in my mind I've just written a witty and insightful disection of the political scene in Canberra so I can't help it if you're reading drivel.