The World According To Me

Hey kids, just when you thought it was safe to get back in the water…..along comes another inane post about…well…nothing….

Things have been altogether boring of late. I have been on a week long spree of cleaning my house, making sure I don't neglect the little things, like Mr Sheen-ing the skirting boards and such. Which is great. Only now I am finding it increasingly difficult to be lazy, as I don't officially have anything to procrastinate about. I am actually entitled to spend a lot of time sitting on my arse because I don't have anything better to do. Living without the constant nagging guilt of an armchair overflowing with ironing and dusty venetians is quite strange really.

I need a hobby.

Last weekend I said goodbye to another of my closest friends, who has moved to Perth to be an amazingly high-paid kick-arse family lawyer. Oh so many tears. The number of people in my immediate vicinity that I actually want to spend prolonged amounts of time with is rapidly diminishing, and this does make me sad.

I also saw one of my little sisters do her debutante ball last Friday. It's such a strange event, these girls get frocked up and dance and….it's weird. She looked beautiful though, so grown up, and I was very proud of her.

Last Saturday morning I came out into the kitchen to find Agnes standing over her latest 'present'. She has brought me such a present once before, in the form of a bird, which was awful and I'd hoped she wouldn't do it again. At least this time it wasn't a bird, at first I thought it was a possum until I saw the long, unmistakable tail of a big, fuck-off rat. I swore and hyperventilated for a bit before going to get the dustpan and brush to take it outside. It seems I wasn't quick enough however, because by the time I'd located the dustpan, Esme had taken all credit for the situation and was dragging the wretched thing around the house. It was almost as big as she was, I still can't work out how she picked it up in her mouth. When I went near her she would hiss at me so I finally worked out to distract her with food while I manoeuvred the rat into the dustpan without touching it with my hands and took it out to the wheelie bin at arms length, muttering and dry-retching.

Sometimes I hate being a single woman. If I had a bloke I could have made him remove the offending rat and then when he was done he could mow the lawn or something. Then I think of how much I cherish my independence and enjoy my own company right now and I think I can handle a tiny (massive) rat.