no it's never that bad, but things don't go right on a bad day. Things, such as doing a load of washing and then forgetting that it's all squashed up in the tub until it starts raining; talking about nothing for ages on the phone where meanwhile Pascal is going mental in the background and all of a sudden it's midday and I've missed the 'cheap' petrol; Opening the door to an electricity company representative who has come to the area out of concern we are paying too much on our bills and out of the goodness of his heart can offer a deal where we are 5% better off and Tilly (the most annoying jack russell terrier in the WORLD) takes her opportunity to dart down to the neighbours house to terrorize their guinea pig...and then I miss the 'cheap' petrol.
Stuff like that.
Well, today was a good one. The skies were blue and we travelled to a Shoe Sale on the posh side of town and I scored a great pair of boots for $50!!! I still hadn't got my cheap petrol yet as I was keeping an eye out for a Shell Station because of my 4 cents off a litre docket (woohoo!). Luckily I came to my senses* as I waited at a red light near a BP. I made a last minute turn and whaddaya know - as I left the station with a tank full of $1.59 petrol, the guy came out with The long hook and a dreaded number 6.
A Rumpelstiltskin tantrum narrowly
avoided...phew!
I decided to stay in the posh area. The posh area being THE posh area of Melbourne. We're talking Toorak, Armadale and Malvern daaarling! Actually, that reminds me. Pascal asked me where we were when we were crawling down High St, Armadale (I've never not crawled down High Street or Glenferrie Road - it's so congested there) and I put on this really loud Mrs Slocombe voice "Why High Strreet Armadale, Daaarling!"
I didn't realise I had the window right down. I don't think anyone from the street or other cars heard but I figured if they did, I would have sounded pretty normal.
We ended up in Glenferrie Road Malvern and I went to Coles. I swear Today Tonight are right and the richies get the better fresh produce. You should have seen the apples gleaming brightly and the perfect bananas. As usual Pascal stopped near the roast chickens and started his dead animal question r'epertoire. It starts with "what's that?" "A chicken" "what was the chicken? was it a hen?" "Yes Pascal, it was a hen" "is it dead?" "umm...yes" "did somebody kill it? why is it killed?"...I honestly can't even remember what I answered this time. Sometimes (if I'm tired) I just go "oh er..yeah, look at that over there." Sometimes I just end up telling him the cold hard truth - so we can cook and eat it. He also loves going to the meat section and looking at the 'dead animals' too.
A friend suggested he was going to be a vegetarian but I'm actually worried he might become a Dexter of some kind. He has talked about killing meat animals. Should I be worried?
We come in peace
*ie realising that looking for Shell station to save me two dollars on an eighty-plus dollar petrol bill as the clock was ticking dangerously past midday was too pathetic for words
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