Houseminding in Glebe V

Friday: day 8 of 12
Erm.. oh yeah. No. Um. Dragged ma lazy slut body out of bed, watched a baby huntsman in the bathroom, drank coffee, went  on the internet. Mornings have a pattern here.

Went to three Xmas parties, the last one just up the road at the Different Drummer. I used to go here in my courting days, which I don't really recall.

Saturday: day 9 of 12
I wake up late. I seem to have all my clothes on. It is surprisingly comfortable sleeping with one's shoes on. I don't feel too bad, but I probably can't string two words together. Sadly, no one asks me to.

I go up and have breakfast at Mano. I have a toasted ham cheese and tomato croissant, some mineral water, and a long black. They make good coffee. I read one of the Australian's inserts, then I order a 2nd breakfast - Turkish toast with peanut butter, and another coffee. Tap water this time. I stop being hungry but am not any less stupid.

I spend the day at the house, doing nothing. I had PLANS! Ruined by having fun! My Xmas card would be late this year. I manage a rough sketch, on the back of my registration confirmation for tomorrow's swim. At about 4pm a loud noise from upstairs - a picture has torn its hook from the wall! This is the most exciting thing to happen here all week.

Quiet evening watching tv at the ex's. I am a little less stupid, though not perceptibly to others.

Sunday: day 10 of 12
Coffee and the last of my "organic honey" on a dry sandwich, is breakfast. *Carb-loading*for my swim today, man. I pack a banana too, to eat a little later. I leave the house, reflecting that I'm only ever here to wake up, or go to sleep. Or, like yesterday, somewhere in-between.

After the swim (1.5km at Bilgola; time: 30:07; place: 148/317) Dave drops me off outside. First thing's first: I make some coffee and look at Facebook.

I shower and change and douse myself with a litre or two of Acqua di Giò from the barrel in the bathroom cupboard. I look and smell so pretty! I go to a farewell at the Welcome Hotel in Balmain. A lesbian compliments me on my shirt.

TV at Clare's, we watch 3 episodes of Season 3 TrueBlood! Buttock count: 37.

Monday: day 11 of 12
I have only got up early ONCE while in this house, to go to Canberra. Maybe it's the sound of raindrops on the roof that is so soporific? Maybe it's staying up until 2am every night?

So laying in bed, listening to the pitter patter, I read a text from Liesel crying off from dinner tonight. I am secretly glad as somehow I had double-booked having Liesel over with CLEANING THE HOUSE AND PACKING ON MY LAST NIGHT.

I go downstairs, make coffee, wash the dishes, get dressed and write an email to Jenny Smith. I notice the Herald's TV guide, unread on the coffee table, and meditate on the fond and foolish hopes I had held at the beginning of my stay, imagining cosy nights in watching tv. I haven't switched the box on once. I probably can't, I've forgotten Deb's instructions. I looked around, and see the clutter and disarray I have made, and really *really* hope Deb's email had got it right when she said they'd be returning tomorrow. I would hate to come back to all this. Except I will be, tonight. Sigh.

Later: epic series of fails this arvo. TWO false alarms at work, forgot my keys, forgot to bring a laptop home, stayed too late, shopping fail, eftpos fail, cake fail, dinner fail, club newsletter fail, gin and tonic fail - dispiriting. But I have packed, and swept, and put the mail neatly on the coffee table, and got some laundry done, so ready for a 4.30 wake up call, eh!