Thaddeus, my 25 year old son and Jonah (24), are in Vietnam. They went on holidays with their mates (Newman and Dazza) and for a tiny moment I thought I should worry about them... but then I heard both of them bickering on my couch before they left, like old dithering women, about who managed to get the best deal on travel insurance and I realised that no… they’re responsible grownups now.
Not so, my delightful eighteen year old daughter Lulu, who sent me a text today.
“Do we have any hereditary stomach diseases in our family history?” she’d casually texted.
My knees buckled and my heart rate quickened.
Was she at the doctors? She’d seemed fine last night as she’d scoffed down her spag bol. What the hell was going on?
So I texted back a nonchalant, “Why?”
“I’ve just been to a psychic and she said I might have a hereditary stomach problem,” she answered.
I was instantly frenzied with self-centred curiosity.
Me: No, no stomach problems in the family. What else did she say? Did she mention me? Am I going to die soon?”
Lulu: No. But she did say you were moving house soon.
That’s true, I thought, maybe this psychic's the real deal.
Me: “Did she say I was going to become a famous writer?”
Lulu: No. Lol! She did say you might be going to go on a holiday at the end of the year on a boat.
Oh well, I thought. At least I’m still going to be alive at the end of the year. So far so good.
Me: Did she say anything about me at all??????
Lulu: She said you were tired and you needed a change. She said you are a well-respected woman.
Well. That was enough to put me in a good fudging mood for the rest of the day. If a clairvoyant said I’m a well-respected woman I’m going to take that as gospel. It must be bloody true. I’m WELL respected. Not just respected. WELL bloody respected.
But by who, I wonder?
Anyway, my mood was further cheered up on my way home by running into my colleague Megan, who has the exact same car as me, at the service station. I know it’s childish but I had to take a photograph of the ‘twins’.
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| The Evil Twins. |
But then my jolly demeanour was severely diminished at the deli counter at Coles a mere fifteen minutes later.
I glanced over surreptitiously as I crouched in between the lettuces and broccoli and seized on the glorious fact that not only was there nobody at the deli counter waiting to be served, but there was actually a staff member standing behind the counter. No need to do star jumps to get their attention! Bonus!
I maneuvered that shopping trolley over faster than it takes a Cole’s avocado to turn brown in the fridge.
The woman behind the counter was packing chicken legs in one kilogram bags like she was packaging crack for a drug run and completely ignored me. About ten minutes later, a wizened, elderly woman sidled her trolley up next to me while I waited. She smiled at me benevolently.
The woman behind the counter was packing chicken legs in one kilogram bags like she was packaging crack for a drug run and completely ignored me. About ten minutes later, a wizened, elderly woman sidled her trolley up next to me while I waited. She smiled at me benevolently.
I knew this wasn’t going to end well.
We both watched the sweaty deli assistant packing up the bags, bag after fudging bag, until eventually she finished and looked up at me and asked absently, “Did you want seven kilograms or eight, luv?”
I stared at her in disbelief, tapping my foot in impatience. “I didn’t order chicken legs,” I replied, a tentative glint of insanity in my eyes.
She shrugged, bored, then she turned to the old lady, “Can I help you, dear?” she asked, ignoring me completely.
The beautiful old lady gestured towards me, as I slouched and scowled like Gollum behind my trolley, angry and belligerent. “This lady was before me,” she said kindly.
I was soooo pissed off. I could never allow myself to be served before an old lady, even though I knew I was there first and had already been waiting for a bloody inordinate amount of time.
I cracked the shits.
“Never mind,” I said through gritted teeth, waving my arm dramatically and stomping off. “You go first!”
Both of them looked at bit startled, I think. It wasn’t the old lady’s fault. Stupid, annoying deli woman.
We both watched the sweaty deli assistant packing up the bags, bag after fudging bag, until eventually she finished and looked up at me and asked absently, “Did you want seven kilograms or eight, luv?”
I stared at her in disbelief, tapping my foot in impatience. “I didn’t order chicken legs,” I replied, a tentative glint of insanity in my eyes.
She shrugged, bored, then she turned to the old lady, “Can I help you, dear?” she asked, ignoring me completely.
The beautiful old lady gestured towards me, as I slouched and scowled like Gollum behind my trolley, angry and belligerent. “This lady was before me,” she said kindly.
I was soooo pissed off. I could never allow myself to be served before an old lady, even though I knew I was there first and had already been waiting for a bloody inordinate amount of time.
I cracked the shits.
“Never mind,” I said through gritted teeth, waving my arm dramatically and stomping off. “You go first!”
Both of them looked at bit startled, I think. It wasn’t the old lady’s fault. Stupid, annoying deli woman.
Anyway, back to the psychic. Lulu said the tarot card reader prophesied that one of her brothers was going to meet and form a relationship with an older woman. That could be good or bad. I can’t decide. I don’t really want a forty year old daughter-in-law.
It better not be anyone I know… just saying.
It better not be anyone I know… just saying.
Do you find the deli to be an excruciating part of your shopping?
Do you think I should embrace this possible older woman into the family?
