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Even when we are present in the same house – say, Husband upstairs in his office and me in the kitchen – the most effective means of communication is often email. From my perspective, email generates a faster response than bawling up the stairs and, crucially, there is a written record of any agreements or transactions.

The benefit for Andrew is eliminating the requirement to talk.

When I saw the property on Trademe, I sent an email to Andrew with subject ‘sigh!’ and the link. Then I was distracted bidding on a bread machine (unfortunately it went for more than $5) and pretty much forgot about it.

But half an hour later, when I went upstairs to bed and found Andrew flicking intently through the photos of the property, I felt a chill of premonition.

“Looks nice,” he said moodily, clicking on a picture of the sun setting over snow covered mountains. On Andrew’s emotional register, ‘nice’ roughly equates to ‘totally mind-blowingly awesome’.

“Suppose,” I said.

“Well? How about it?” he asked.

“How about what?”


“Moving?” I repeated. Because honestly, this consideration had not seriously registered. I mean, yes, the house was lovely, but why would we want to move? After all, we are perfectly happy where we are: half an hour from the city, 40 minutes from beaches with black sand, about 100km of walking trails within biking distance of our front door. We have made wonderful friends, against all the odds (Andrew). We love the community along the road – apart from the miserable old hag who walks along the road and never waves and is incapable of cracking a smile even when Jed pulls faces at her out the car window. Skank.

Also, the thought of packing and cleaning and trying to dissuade Husband from attempting to transport 24 cubic metres of belongings on his rickety trailer was unappealing.

Yet the next morning, following a game plan hastily conceived the night before, I was on the phone to S enquiring whether the house was still available and whether the stipulation ‘no pets’ included dogs. Because if it did, we could always give Jed up for adoption.




Comments on: "Nice; or totally mind-blowingly awesome" (5)

  1. You get to take your friends with you. The ones that drop away you’re better of without. The ones that stay will probably be there for ever – just don’t say I didn’t warn you 🙂

    You will be missed – and the same for the bloke upstairs on the computer 🙂

  2. Cian said:

    And I thought you guys used push-phone/walkie talkie or some other form of handheld transceiver to communicate over the vastness of space which is upstairs/downstairs.

    Did you ever stop to think that that miserable old hag might have propositioned Husband sometime in the past and he said No? No wonder she never waves and smiles at you. She possibly either hates you (for stealing him from her fantasy land) or is scared in case you kill her with a stare.

    On another note, needless to say I’m still totally jealous.

  3. deadlyjelly said:

    MarkJ – of course you’re right. But no matter how many times I told myself that leaving Dubai, the ones that dropped away still broke my heart. But the friends that stuck like burrs glued it back together. Well, the effect was more a reconstruction of old cobwebs, dried skin cells and sticky margarita residue. In summary, my heart is intact, if a bit unsanitary.


    PS You’re a burr

  4. deadlyjelly said:

    Cian – telephone is also a preferred mode of communication:

    I get up earlier than Husband, and once received this text message:

    Depending on your schedule, and if you have any free time, it would be fantasic if you could consider, with no pressure, the possibility of delivering a cup of coffee. Address is right side of bed, master bedroom, top of the stairs, our house, the world.

    I’m always aggressively polite to the miserable old hag, so no chance of killing her with a stare. For some time now, I have been considering the more pedestrian yet simpler option of running her over.

    I’m thrilled to hear you’re totally jealous, I always strive for that effect.


  5. Cian said:

    Telephone indeed. One of these days I may have a fully functioning memory. Then again I doubt it.

    That is a very cute text. My phone is full of texts from Teddy Bears and other half asking or telling me stuff. I hope he got his coffee – it was deserved in all fairness.

    Let the running over her be your parting gesture.

    Now that you’re thrilled that I am still jealous, I am not anymore. That seemed to work a treat. Well maybe I am a little bit and it is late and I am off to sleep. It might just return tomorrow when I think of that view.

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