Here’s what else you missed (warning: don’t get too excited).
- The weekend after Husband’s departure, I was invited to lunch with The Grandparents.
Such a grand occasion warranted picking the dog hair out of my good jumper, and a shower. I thought it would be nice if, for a change, I didn’t look like I’d just tumbled off a fucking tractor (even if it sounded like I did).
I really pushed out the boat by blow-drying and straightening my hair and treating it to some high-tech formula hair shiner for super soft and shiny hair.
It was a beautiful day, and I had the window down as I drove to Mt Wellington, pouting and tossing my super soft, shiny hair around. I may be skidding towards middle age, but I looked downright foxy; I felt sexy, carefree – although not irresponsible (after all, I am nearly middle aged). Therefore I wound up the window when my vision was impaired by wind-borne hair.
I only noticed I had trapped half my hair in the window when I nearly scalped myself checking for cars over my left shoulder.
That’s NOT a good look, especially at 100kph on the SH1.
- One day, I reversed down the drive forgetting I’d left my mobile phone on the spare wheel on the back of the car.
I treat the spare wheel much like a hall table; in repose, it is normally strewn with keys, wallet, phone, sunglasses and garage opener. In many ways, the spare wheel is the perfect receptacle: it’s curved, often clean, stainproof, waterproof, and – most significantly – right there.
Halfway down the road, I remembered my mobile on the back wheel – except, when I stopped to check, it wasn’t. On the back wheel. Any more.
So I drove back to the house, and there it was lying by the gate.
At least I didn’t drive over it. No no, I made that mistake once before.
I am currently rethinking my storage policy for valuables.
- Another day, there was a pounding on the door. These days, the only things that pound on our door are the meter reader and falling branches. However, in this instance, it was our neighbour, Hairy Dave.
“Hai-ey, Dave!” I exclaimed. No doubt, the day is not far off where I will address him as Hairy Dave to his face and he will wreak a horrible and unusual revenge with his beard. “Are you- are you here for a cup of tea? Or- what?”
In fact, Hairy Dave was present to perform a community service by informing me he had sighted my dog 2km down the road – instead of pootling around our fenced yard.
Well, I am ashamed to admit I rudely left Hairy Dave on the doorstep; and furthermore, nearly reversed over him as I backed down the drive at high speed.
I took it slower going down the road, expecting to see Jed’s mangled little body – oh god! – around every bend. Ok, that’s artistic licence; I only got around the one bend, when I encountered The Jedster charging up the center of the road: covered in mud and a big, happy head on him.
Jed obviously forgot the subsequent discussion we had, since he embarked on another expedition yesterday afternoon.
- I bought Jed a set of panniers. Apparently, making your dog carry things around gives him a sense of purpose, a feeling of belonging in this world.
Also, it means I don’t have to carry my own waterproofs.
So far, I’ve only stored waterproof items in his panniers, since his extra baggage doesn’t stop him plunging into every stream, drain, pool, puddle or quagmire in the vicinity.
Jed loves his panniers and gets all excited when I bring them out – probably because he knows it signals a walk – although he squirms when I take too long doing up the straps.
- Last Sunday, I attended Jessica’s tenth birthday party. There were a LOT of kids. They moved really fast. It was a bit scary.
I had no idea what to buy a 10 year old for a birthday present, so polled Husband. He said, “Well, think about what YOU’D buy a 14 year old, and get that”. How flattering that Husband considers me only four years behind The Times.
I considered buying Jessica a crop top with ‘Bouncy’ written across the chest – which, according to the magazines, is the sort of thing every hip kid is wearing in the playground – however, I didn’t want her mother banning me from the house.
In the end, I turned up with nothing, which I understand is a HUGE faux pax at a 10 year old’s birthday party, possibly even worse than the crop top.
That’s about it, really.