Pinky's Book Link

Thursday, November 5, 2015

Anus Horribilus

Last night, it suddenly occurred to me I should set the alarm for 5am and go for an early walk the following day. 

It was the very first pebble in an horrific landslide of biblical proportions when the alarm went off this morning.

I’d organised everything I’d need the night before; keys, phone and runners with socks tucked in and neatly placed on the stairs. All I had to do was scull a coffee. 

On my way down the driveway, I fed the whining cat and picked the newspaper up from the lawn before setting forth on my journey.

About halfway through my walk, I reached into my pocket for my phone to check the time… no phone… but it didn’t worry me because I assumed I’d merely left it at home.

It didn’t worry me anywhere near as much as the fudging swarm of wasps I walked into. I should have known when the elderly gentleman walking about twenty yards ahead of me began flailing his arms around demonically and performing wobbly pirouettes... but I just thought he was being silly or doing some Eastern meditation thing.

One of the little fudgers stung me on the elbow and I spent the rest of the walk waiting for an anaphylactic attack to strike.

I looked for my phone just before I was ready to leave for work but horror of horrors, it was nowhere to be seen. I ran out on to the front lawn and scoured the area where I’d bent over to feed the cat and pick up the newspaper, thinking it might have fallen out of my pocket. God forbid it should have absconded on my walk! 

In a panic I sent a FB message to Shazzy and Kazzy to ring me urgently so I could find it via my earholes. 

The silence was deafening. I searched everywhere at least five times.

“Was it locked” asked Kyles when I saw her at work. 

“No,” I gulped. "Can you lock a phone?"

“Well you better ring the provider and cancel it, Pinky,” she warned. “Who’s your provider? Telstra?”

“No,” I stammered. “I think it’s the other one.”


I nodded in a feeble fashion.

Kyles sent Scotto (on the Gold Coast), a text asking him to block the phone for me. God forbid some grubby fingered person should run up a massive bill on my (unlocked) phone. 
He was straight on it. 

Turns out my provider is Virgin. Who knew?

It’s funny how when you lose something you suddenly realise how deeply attached to it you are. At morning tea, I watched everyone brandishing their phones around with gay abandon. Tears welled up in my eyes and sad music played in my head. ‘Treasure what you have guys’, I thought, ‘because you never know when it will be cruelly taken from you’.

Anyway, I found the stupid thing when I arrived home, tucked in the bowels of the couch where my flabby bottom had sat while I drank my coffee and the phone had slipped out of my back pocket…

There. That’s why it was an anus horribilus not an annus horribilus.

But then the worst of the day was yet to come. I had to administer Celine, the fox terrier’s bi-weekly menopause tablet. It’s usually Scotto’s job but he ain’t here no more. It took me five (toothy-bitey) attempts to realise I needed to put it in a lump of butter or she was either going to bite my finger off or begin to levitate and spew pea green bile all over me whilst screaming profanities.

How was your day? Ever lose your phone?