Possibly the two busiest weeks of my life. Fine. Stressed. Will pass. Here we go, says the housewife to the milkman.
Saturday: clean up apartment, chuck shit in boxes
Sunday: move house using Chris’ aunties horse float (yup.) carpets will never be the same again. Chris super. Unpack, arrange room, perform mandated cleansing ceremony on bed
Monday (public holiday): work
Tuesday – Thursday: work. 12 hour days, new flatmates wonder if I am alive
Friday: date scheduled, am stood up. 6.30pm Boss comes in from Friday night pissup to see me crying into keyboard. Pours me drink, hands me tissue. I am losing the will to live I say. If you see yours, can you see if mine is nearby he says
Saturday: have morning to self, sleep in and then breakie on Smith St. Work. Have drinks for flat induction / new flatmates birthday
Sunday: woken at 9 from deep drunken slumber by FOAXH, who advises I must get my arse round to the apartment this minute to pick up the rest of my stuff. Spend rest of day not working, sitting on rooftop and reading Stasiland (good book. You should read it.)
Monday: Meeting til 4 with Melbourne client, fly to Sydney on 6 o’clock flight. Go out to Parramatta, find hotel, sleep.
Tuesday: have argument with hotel reception re internet. Workshop all day. Manager of hotel calls to grovel. Alerted by colleague to pending office relocation. Get on train to airport. Call Telstra re relocation who advise they can’t transfer our service until after the date I need it. Miss call from rental property manager who advises people lined up to rent house have pulled out, can we please pay the next months rent now. Get off at central and consider throwing self under train. Fly back to Melbourne, do washing, wash hair, and go to bed
Wed: meet FOAXH at 7.30 for breakie, devise plan of firebombing property manager’s office. Go to office (mine). Work. Go home at lunchtime to pick up things for next trip, including runners as haven’t exercised in week and mental state not helped by this. Leave tram ticket on tram with 5 more trips left on it. Man in van at traffic lights near tram stop tells me I am beautiful. First workshop in Melbourne at 1 cancelled. Workshop 3-5 in Melbourne. Boring. Amuse self by counting number of times civil servant explaining process prefaces sentences by saying ‘here we go..’ (nine) Taxi out to airport. Cab driver “I have seen you before, yes? I took you through the drive through bottle shop on St Georges road?’ Queue for bag drop serviced by 6 counters, inadequate. Security nuts. Fly to Sydney. Work on plane. Taxi to Parra. Sleep.
Thursday: workshop all day, greatly cheered by free sandwiches and laughing at hungover colleagues. Leave work, bashing hand on door frame. Walk along Parramatta river in sunshine. Order Thai for dinner. Watch Berlin Wall doco. Decide I will go back to Berlin in the summer, (not this summer). Hear from mother who is in Melbourne, and I am not. Work several hours on Melbourne meeting. Hear another 2 ‘here we go’’s on the tape from Wednesday workshop. Ask Boss Wife for advance on salary so can pay 2 lots of rent (again). Comforted greatly by number of airports. Can get me to Bangkok. One way.
Friday: work til 1. Get in cab to go to airport. Do some work in gate lounge. Watch people queue up before flight even called. Feel smug I am cleverer and keep working. Back to Melbourne, drop stuff at Urk*, find mother. Have lovely night with mother, inc dinner at Marios. Sleep.
Hmmm, can sleep now with little difficulty. Funny that.