In late 2022 I made a purchase of a useful household item. Not my first of its kind but this time, wanting it to last considerably longer than the previous version I had purchased, I doubled and somewhat I spent. A bin in my study, gradually getting out of control giving me license to go make the purchase from Officeworks. One of my favourite places to shop these days, but this purchase has meant I could stop considering taking or even asking places I go regularly if I could take some of this growing pile to my appointments. Didn’t ever but thought about asking.
When I made this purchase finally, my carer got it out of the box and we both “the 2 Helen’s!” sat around it like it was an outdoor fire on the cold winter night and shared the joy of feeding it with paper.
Have you worked it out yet?
I bought a paper shredder. Each different kind of paper or envelope raiding the question “Can it do this?” The answer was always YES IT CAN.
Just so you know, never have you had so much fun with your clothes on in your home or at the office. But alas, soon enough the pile of paperwork was gone. I have let the pile build again.
Today, I have revisited the pile in my study, dragging the shredder out from its home under the desk. Five minutes in I had not realised late 2022 I had bought a Hipster into my home. It does 5 minutes work then it’s too hot apparently and proceeds to take the next forty fucking minutes off. It’s like a Barista! Makes part of a coffee then checks its socials. FFS!
You know it’s your friends who really know you and understand you. Last week, I had an extra adventure to a few shops to get different things. It was an extra few hours to catch up on things I never have enough time for and need. At the end of the day, I was calculating what I had spent where and was surprised how little I spent at Bunnings. (It’s Australia’s favourite hardware store!) even more popular during all the Covid crazy.
Tonight, I was on the phone to a friend and I said to him, “I went to Bunnings and only spent $9.00. What’s wrong with that?”
And without missing a beat, “You didn’t buy a plant?” I laughed so hard because he had hit the nail on the head.
These days I have to avoid the plants because I have NO MORE ROOM for plants, my balcony has plants around the edges, a rack that has multiple levels of plants cascading down over the edge and a tall curry plant. I also hang my washing out all year round and the few plants that are inside in the windows are watered carefully at the kitchen sink then returned the next day.
My apartment has west facing windows and a balcony. It means in summer the setting sun is brutal and in the colder months my home is rather dark so no more plants.
Also, all the orchids I had when I moved in, the indoor ones. They’re dead now. My next home when that happens (not anytime just yet) needs to have more space, indoor and out. Maybe something North-Facing? Just putting it out there. But not yet, I’ve only been here five and a half years. It’s the longest I’ve lived somewhere since I moved out at 19. My Mum did once call me a Gypsy, weird as I’m such a homebody.
I confess to say, I live for small talk. I will take any opportunity, I don’t mind your race, religion, sexual orientation or if you’re a Junkie. Well, that last one was purely by accident and it’s generally worked out well for me. Until it doesn’t.
Last week I was in a neighbouring suburb at my weekly appointment when waiting outside a cafe for my medicine to arrive in my Keep Cup. Yeah, get one, they’re great.
While waiting I participated in some friendly chatting with an elderly man sitting waiting for his medicine. My brand-new carer I had met just that morning arrived to stand beside me and another older woman joined the man at the table. He told her he had already ordered and I took the opportunity to whisper to my carer that I presumed the other woman was also a carer. I gave my evidence for why I had come to that conclusion and she agreed. The shirt she was wearing screamed she worked for the council and she wore a lanyard. She in question had her head in her phone. Case in point.
Anyway, the conversation with the elderly man I don’t know, how he went to a previous Australian Prime Minister before my time and he was very grumpy that, that Prime Minister had done three particularly terrible things that had not been to his liking. I attempted to appease him, not particularly needing to get into a debate about politics by suggesting all politicians don’t please everyone. Let’s just hope they do more good than harm. But he wasn’t done and I have no idea how this next happened, but he mentioned Hitler. Like WTF just happened?
I mentioned this to my chiropractor who I see in this area weekly, her hand reached towards me asking “are you ok?” I explained I was but just didn’t know how I’d gotten myself into this conversation without seeing it coming.
So, how did I extract myself from this man’s company I hear you ask? I first thought I should explain to him we should both be able to agree that HITLER was EVIL! (Note: not a question?) But he was not done! FFS!
He informed me Hitler had only received 40% of the vote. He had just managed to get people to follow him and do as he wanted. I guess he was saying Hitler had charisma. But he was not done. But I was. I turned to my carer and I asked her to check on my coffee. They had left it waiting for me inside.
OK, have a nice day and I got the fuck away from him.
OK, I guess another Hot Off the Press is required and today it comes as a form of confession. Not that I thought I was invincible for having avoided catching the Plague. You should be familiar with my term for Covid 19? Yes, that’s the one. Or my predilection for referring to the RAT as a Pregnancy test, by that it looks a lot like an actual Pregnancy Test. Again, not that I’ve ever done one of those.
Alas, I almost made it to May 10, 2023, so close. Alas, I tested “Pregnant!” on a Wednesday morning and we had to cancel rather a few appointments. Including reluctantly my early chiropractor’s appointment. To my further annoyance because it felt like every rib was not where they should be. But, alas, I couldn’t live with myself should I pass it onto anybody else let alone someone more at risk than myself.
I have had all five vaccines for the Plague and every single one came with issues to book, be eligible, get transport to and from and originally to have access to the appropriate vaccine my GP had insisted I have and only that particular vaccine. Originally it was only the Astra Zenica (or the AZ!) I was told from day dot to only get the Pffizer. (Or a Fizzer! As I called it) I was too YOUNG to qualify originally.
Overall, my experience of the actual Plague, I’m not really complaining. Remember in the early days of Covid? Yeah, lots of those people are not here to tell the tale. So, my mild cold-like-symptoms, I was fine. I hunkered down and settled into isolation. Took more juice and echinacea than I’ve had for a while but after the initial cancelling of all my appointments, only one carer chose not to risk coming. I had two days that week without carers. One of my two agencies could not cover a shift and then the Friday, same issue and my Girl Friday couldn’t risk it. I didn’t panic and test every day like many people like to do. The mandates at the time were to isolate five days. My next appointment was the following Tuesday and thankfully I tested negative and I was able to get to podiatry. Thankful as I had toenails like dragon claws. My podiatrist sees far worse, but I have my own standards. I also would have been fine to stay at home a few more days.
I’ve been dealing with a very annoying wheeze and that’s it. Plenty of Ventolin and my chiropractor giving my lungs a good pounding last Wednesday. I’ve been doing nothing but catch up ever since.
Remember those early days of the vaccine when people were being encouraged to get out and catch COVID’s? Don’t know about elsewhere but the media had it obvious they were to encourage everyone to go out and get it. And if they hadn’t had it, they needed to get out there and get amongst it. Ok, the younger people were being told/shamed for not getting out and being sociable. I guess the government was after Herd Immunity and then on the other hand, I had a new carer last week that had had the Plague 7 times! 7! That’s 6 times too many, right?
You may ask how I got the Plague? I think it was the last comedy show I was at. It was the Daniel Sloss gig at a Convention Centre where I was among 5,500 people. My friend didn’t get it. No idea how. He was sitting right beside me and drove us there and home again. I am just happy he didn’t get it. I have my last comedy show this week, the Melbourne International Comedy show has finished but I’ll tell you about my last comedy event in next week’s post to be sure.
So Happy Mother’s Day, this should go for Fur-Mothers Too. As it seems I forgot to have kids, or did I? To be continued.
As Single Barren Spinster we know the last thing parents of actual little humans is unsolicited advice from someone who has not spawned a baby. However please read this whole post to get the context to this brilliant parenting advice.
Last Monday I had an adventure to a shopping complex my carers and I call The Bad Lands/Knife Land. After a few purchases I visited the bathroom near a food court. Upon exiting to leave I could hear a screaming child. Immediately making my ovaries dry up. My eyes wild I searched for my carer to communicate to her to get me the hell away from that screaming child. Then we encountered said child and I felt awful. Said child and mum were sitting on the floor. The Mum trying to console her three or four year old daughter. She had run headfirst into a glass door then slid over. Probably in her own blood. I would guess this family, including the father standing nearby not knowing how to help were Indian. Another Indian woman was behind the mum on the floor looking on assessing the situation. I pegged her as staff of the shopping complex. She looked to be assessing if they should call an ambulance. She was looking to the Mum to make the decision. I made eye contact with the staff member hoping she read my non-verbal communication, as “Call an Ambulance!” Here’s the unsolicited advice? “If there are inconsolable tears and blood? Call an ambulance!” It’s not wrong though, is it?
I imagine the Mum had big plans that day and probably didn’t have the time to be waiting in a hospital emergency. But that little girl needed glue. They don’t do stitches these days and I suggest this because guess whose birthday it was that day? WORST BIRTHDAY EVER! She was going to have a scar from that memory.
Now, before you judge me for jumping the gun, take this into consideration. My father’s passing bought family from New South Wales and Queensland I either don’t see very often or haven’t seen since I was 18. Nice work Dad. My youngest cousin has a sixteen month old and her fiancé was sitting next to me at a catch up dinner around Boxing Day. He outsourced babysitting to another young second cousin, I would guess twelve. This was so he could eat dinner and so could his wife to be. The second five minutes of outsourcing babysitting the toddler was returned with a confession, “She had fallen over and hit her head!” Dad was brilliantly dismissive, with a “Don’t worry about it! Is she crying or bleeding?” I complimented him for this and I was informed “Ain’t my first rodeo!” (He has older children) I’m just saying they breed them tough in Queensland.
Lastly, I may not have had children, so people generally dismiss any advice I offer but people forget or don’t know I’ve been the older sibling to two younger sisters, the first of which was born on my 8th birthday. I used to bath her and do nappy duty. My second youngest sister I was studying full time, working part-time and still doing serious babysitting duties. I was then 16, it’s not only actual birth mothers that do the heavy lifting.
This is my fur-baby, Mika! She is desperate not to be a Lap Cat. She is very close on the back of the couch.
Sometimes, having new carers, as I have right now, I get a new gene pool of stories. My newest carer (let’s call her 62), it isn’t right but here we go? A few of my carers at any given time are around this age and it is NOT A BAD THING.
Ms 62 was at another client’s home. (Let’s call this other client Ms 92) They were sitting at the table having a cup of tea and the Ms 62 a glass of water. Ms 92 has two young Sparkies in her bathroom doing some rewiring. One sparky is in the room, the other in the roof. From the kitchen the ladies hear one sparky call out. “Shine the torch through the hole!” Realising his error, he corrected himself with “Shine the light through the cavity!”
After the Sparkies departed 62 asked 92 if she had heard what the young man had said? She had and apparently, she had had a hard time not laughing out loud. Sometimes, it’s these little titbits that make life worth living.
* If you are not sure, Sparkies is the general term for electricians.
Occasionally, life throws me a curve ball. Like right now, my oven is on the fritz again. I use my oven and grill a lot.
About a year ago they swapped out the element and it took two weeks for a booking. Our building gets a lot of power blackouts I can only imagine the oven has had one too many and is not happy.
Just about as unhappy as I’ve been after wasting money on a pork roast for Easter and enough veggies to roast for a family. Also, no melted cheesy goodness on toast.
Comedy shows early so I’m home by 8pm. Is this the sign I’m getting old? Don’t answer that. Sunday night stopped at New York style Pizza by the slice on Brunswick Street, Fitzroy and here is my first course.
Should I need to point out, I don’t really do much of any excitement any other time of the year. This comedy festival don’t mistake my current effort at getting out for some fun to have you imagine I get to maintain this level is my normal life in general. Every time I try to do one thing different from the normal of appointments for physio, neurophysiology, neuropsych or the shrink appointments I’m missing right now. GP Appointments, the weekly Chiropractic visits, let alone any specialist appointments thrown in the mix. It all becomes too much.
Normal life gives me a migraine behind my left eye and it’s Sunday night at the start of the week. I start with a new OT tomorrow. Can’t wait for her to look around my home and tell me my home is too cluttered. Yes, that’s expected. OT’s look at my home as if I need to be ready for a wheelchair. When I mentioned this to a previous carer she snorted an embarrassed laugh as she looked around my home. Prompting her, I would not be offended by her reason for cheer, she informed me she had the same kind of clutter in her home. Comforting, I joined her laugh.
So, by sharing the fun things I’m doing right now, appreciate it’s got to get me through the rest of the year because the Festival is the highlight to my year. That said, for the third time this Saturday I went to see a Scottish Comedian Daniel Sloss. Most people go see him for having seen his at Netflix special Jigsaw. I had only heard of it when I decided to go see his show pre-Covid that he mentioned he received complaints about because it was about Rape and Assault. Not in general, but I can’t context appropriately so won’t. His Melbourne 2023 show was titled Can’t, I believe for the similarity to another word I never use verbally unless I’m quoting someone else. You will never see it written here but it is to say it “Rhymes with Punt!”
If interested here is a link to his Ted Talk he once did.
Sunday night before writing this post I finally got around to watching his two Netflix Specials. Both Dark and Jigsaw. I’m sure the last show I saw was Dark, and it was good. If you took the time to watch the above, Ted-Talk you will notice he’s a bit wrong and funny but his shows are more of a Ted-talk where you go away thinking about things. Some parts he mentions something so awful, parts of the audience laugh and he’s not even close to the punchline it’s a bit too wrong. He reigns in the people that laughed at the wrong bits. The show started at 8.20pm. The latest start time I’ve done and it went until 11.15pm. If you want value for money. Go see Daniel Sloss.
It’s now a few weeks before the next show I have tickets for, so next week will be back to normal programming. This is my friend and I at the show, in the back row.
When this goes live on Monday, I’m hoping a carer turns up to help me start my week properly as despite all my preparation, neither of my two agencies have rostered me a carer, both assuming the other has covered it and me not making sure on Friday that somebody’s has made sure I would have someone. Let’s hope the rest of the week runs more smoothly.
Seems the Hot off the Press has returned for the moment. Nothing like keeping you all up to date, about five years ago I started getting one’s ticket for the comedy festival. Don’t know what took me so long.
During the lockdowns in Melbourne the one ticket I had was rescheduled. Apparently, I could have gotten a refund, but nobody had any idea what the Plague would do. So, I let the ticket be rescheduled, in 2022 I got another ticket and found myself going to two comedy shows. Good times! With my dad’s passing I got two tickets this year and after my father passed, I decided I needed a lot more funny in my life. So, I bought three more comedy tickets. My predicament has been now I’ve seen a few comedians in recent years I like to see them the following year too. But this year I also decided to see some shows of people I’ve always wanted to see but never gotten to.
This week I’ve seen Danny Buoy. He’s been coming to the festival for ten years and he has definitely picked up a bit of Aussie. What can I say? We like him. Think the feeling is mutual. Saturday night, I went to see Ivan Aristeguieta. Who I saw last year. Ivan has made Australia his home coming from Venezuela. He’s now a citizen after making Australia his home for the last eleven years.
Here’s the crazy thing. he has worked out our culture and expresses it back to us in such a way it really is funny. You would hope so, without giving too much away it’s interesting to see your culture given back to you in such a way you have taken it for granted and its hilarious and he does Aussie Bogan to a T. Seriously, we all want to have a Bogan friend, but we don’t want to be that Aussie Bogan friend. I will allow Noelle to explain Aussie Bogan as she does best, with a meme.
I’ll just say, America. It’s like a Redneck, without the guns and ammo or the roadkill. You can find Ivan on Tik Tok and Instagram.
And Sunday night while I’m putting this post together, I went to see Kitty Flanagan, a self-confessed Single Barren Spinster. It’s where I’ve taken it from. Although not from Melbourne originally, she relocated to Melbourne just in time for all our lockdowns. We love her and Sydney is not getting her back.
Here are some photos of one of the nights. Send a view from across the street standing in front of the Atheneum.
I have more of Ivan. My friend did stalker very well.
Hell onWheels/Life One Handed 