True love is hard. Don’t listen to all those songs that tell you it’s a cinch, or that you just fall in love with someone and it’s all sorted between the two of your forever. No, love is hard and sad, and sometimes one-sided which makes it even more sad. It’s alright, but I personally prefer the company of pets. Until I meet the right girl. But what IS the right girl’? WHO is the right girl?? It’s a mystery.
Love means sacrifice, and I don’t know if I’m ready to part with my stuff. I like my car the way it is, the dog is okay I guess…and then there’s the boat. The finest alloy plate boat money can buy; or at least, the money I had at the time after I scrimmaged and saved throughout all my teen years and finally managed to buy that thing. I did the research, had my heart set on plate alloy and finally, I was able to buy myself a boat for…well, boat stuff. Sometimes I go fishing, but my favourite thing is to just push it out on the lake, set up a beach umbrella and let the world’s cares float away. No more cares. No more, when I’m sitting in Juniper…
Oh, and Juniper is the name of the boat, partially because she’s green and I thought she needed a leafy name, and partially because I just love the name. Maybe a name for a daughter, if I ever make it that far. Of course, the GF wants the boat gone most of all. She doesn’t quite see things the way I do, which here means that she sees Juniper as a threat. I keep trying to explain that most boats have female names, and it doesn’t mean I’ll be out of the house for that long (just the necessary me time!), but it’s not working. This plate aluminium boat is the number one threat. I need a hiding place.
Of course I love my sister with all of my heart, but this little story is just too good to not share. I hope that she doesn’t recognise it, names have been changed and minor detailed altered to protect her identity. Who am I kidding, this is generation ‘ME’, she’ll love the attention. The whole event revolves around my sister trying to move out of her rental house. The landlord would not give back her bond money before he kept finding things wrong with the cleaning. My dear sister has neglected to tell anyone in the family that she moving until the last minute, even though she had known for a while.
I’m not exactly sure what she does with her time, but apparently it doesn’t involve cleaning. The rental house was a chaotic mess, it looked like she had never vacuumed the carpet. Underneath a large pile of old socks and food containers I found a large stain on the floor that looked like it was growing a colony. I was adamant that there was no way we could do this without help from serious tile and grout cleaners. Melbourne was freezing that week, it didn’t help that we had all the doors open to let the place air.
After swimming through the junk to the door and spilling outside I began to clean. Three miserable hours later and I could swear we were actually losing ground against the mess. I told her that it wouldn’t pass inspection, she insisted on getting the landlord to check. He took one look at the state of the place and laughed, there was no way she was getting her bond back anytime soon. A few hours pass and each time the landlord comes over, he gives the same answer, that it isn’t good enough. Finally I convince my sister that we need an expert in carpet steam cleaning in Melbourne. She finally relented and called up carpet cleaning experts to sort it all out. The house was still a huge mess at this point, but true to their word they cleaned the carpet perfectly. I have never seen any carpet cleaning crew work like they did. I love the fact that Melbourne has their own dedicated carpet cleaning company, I am even more impressed that we finally got the bond back.
Ellie is at it again. Whose idea was it that she start learning the saxophone, anyway? Aside from the Irish tin whistle and the bagpipes, it’s possibly the most irritating instrument to hear someone learning to play. And then there’s the violin. The squeaky, offensive violin that gives me the saddest of feelings.
Besides, while Ellie is ‘playing’ I can’t hear the neighbours, and hearing the neighbours is one of my favourite things. Now that Rufus needs picking up from school, the amount of time I can spend with my ear pressed to the wall has dropped considerably. Time was when I could merrily kick back once Ellie had toddled off down the road, cup of tea in hand, and listen through our paper-thin walls to all their problems. This morning, for instance, I heard that they’re having workmen in. Explains all the aluminium platforms, but apparently someone has been getting a bit tipsy in the evenings and playing darts. This doesn’t quite justify why their house front is covered in planks and trestles, but it does explain why they had the plaster person over. Ooh, I can’t wait to tell Rita, she’ll think this is the juiciest piece ever!
Except all those platforms are still there, and I almost managed to catch a conversation after I picked up the kids from school when Ellie started practising her saxophone. Instantly, all noise was deadened. I can’t tell her to stop, either; Lance aid it was all great for her ‘cognitive development’, and of course I want my children to grow up as clever clogs. But what about MY cognitive development?? I can’t get all the gossip with a such a noise going on!
Now I have to walk past the house several times, seeing all those aluminium work platforms and wondering what on Earth they’re for. I’d just ask, but I can’t stand the people next door. Maybe Rita and I will have to work together for this scoop. Oh, and THERE’S the saxophone again…