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Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Tuesdays are Poosdays!


Tuesday is my busiest day of the week, mainly because we have a staff meeting after work and that extra hour throws my entire meticulous timetable out ... that extra precious hour is so bloody important to me.

Today was particularly frenetic because with Father’s Day looming this coming Sunday, it’s the final day I have to buy Dad a present and succeed having it arrive in time through the snail mail.

I calculated that if I managed to escape work at 4:00pm I could get to the shops by 4:30 and parcel it up for mailing tomorrow. I spent all day racking my brain as to what original and creative gift I could buy him… after all, who knows how many more Father’s Days I’ll have with him… I could get hit by a bus tomorrow.

Dad’s a little on the eccentric side. Last year I ordered an exotic silk dragon-embroidered kimono on eBay, which he loved. I’ve bought him enough Mambo shirts over the years to outfit the entire membership of the Cronulla Surf Club. He doesn’t wear aftershave… or read books… or watch movies… or really listen to music. At almost eighty years of age he doesn’t drink and pretty much owns everything a near octogenarian could possibly desire.

It was 4:40 by the time I reached the shopping precinct, agonising over the blank void of ideas in my head until I saw this sign and swerved into the car park. Surely I could find something in this behemoth of manly trappings.

                              Go Bunnings!

Feverishly running up and down the concrete-floored aisles, my panic rising with every fruitless step, I finally hit pay dirt!

I was still behind in my hectic schedule and wildly drove on to the supermarket for the dinner groceries, stopping by the chemist to buy my drug of choice, Dozile (over-the-counter sleepy-feel-good capsules). I had my answers for the inevitable interrogation down pat… no I don’t use them every night, no I only use them when I really need a good, solid night’s sleep… all the while trying not to look or sound like a junkie. As the lady serving me passed me the package she cautioned, 
You do know these may make you drowsy.” 
Okaaaay… I’ll remember that, I thought, WHEN I’M TAKING THEM TO HELP ME GO TO SLEEP!

I hurtled homewards, turned sharply into our driveway and noticed Scotto had beaten me.

(Quick kiss, chug down heart-starting coffee, throw on joggers and head out to the path for an hour’s therapeutic power walk along the river.)

It’s seven-forty now and as soon as I’ve finished writing and posting this it will be time to cook dinner,( the ravenous vultures are circling) feed the six animals, make the lunches for tomorrow and put on a load of washing.
I bloody hate Tuesdays.