Thursday, 26 July 2007

My mate Merv...

Freaking hell! First it was Anny and now Kelly has thrown in orange nipples to the ongoing madness of Emmeline, the twins and the peeler. I don’t normally do sanity but I feel I will have to inject some into this dramatic saga. Watch this space tomorrow.

Every night after work when I drive in Merv is sitting on the pergola *. Who is Merv? Merv is a big fat possum. How do I know his name is Merv? Well I don’t. I just call him that. He could be a she – a Mervina - but I tend to believe most females are not about to go climbing over woodwork to perch up on high of things. We have more sense - whatever the species. Anyway as I drive in I look for Merv and there he is. I like to think he is anxiously waiting there for me to return home safely each night. But I suspect it has more to do with the fact that Merv is more pissed off to see me as he knows now that the human is home and he no longer has run of the place. He has this whole look of “well bugger, you’re back.” Despite this I look forward to seeing Merv as it’s a very uncomplicated relationship. When I come home he goes and sits in the melaleuca tree and I go inside. Perfect really as I am not in the mood for anyone after work. I venture to say if George Clooney turned up at my place after work I would be say “Please go away George, I need wine, not you.” Okay…maybe I wouldn’t. George could be useful…for stuff.

Back to Merv…I did explain to him that the pest control people were coming on the weekend and that maybe he should think about making himself scarce. I feel Merv is very jaded by life experience as he looked at me as if this was all very boring and he would do as he liked. Naturally I would get a fat possum with attitude. Anyway he has been warned. Wayne the terminator is coming.

Wayne no, not his real name, is a thousand years old and the biggest gossip this side of the black stump. The first thing he always says, without fail, when he sees me is “Are you married yet?” To Wayne all women should be married. If not there is something very wrong with them. I always shake my head and say “No Wayne, alas I am still sitting dusty on the shelf.” Wayne then usually says something along the lines of “You’re a good looking woman what’s the problem?’ This is followed by “You’re not gay are you?” No, not gay just very picky and extremely difficult to deal with. Once inside my house Wayne looks around and shakes his head. “You have a lot of junk, ” he always says. This seems to explain to Wayne why no man will marry me. I am messy and collect stuff that needs to be dusted - a sure fire deterrent to any man as "men need looking after" - apparently. Why do I have Wayne come back year after year? Because he is unintentionally funny and an excellent gossip. I know wild things about people I have never met. I know who’s sleeping with whom, who bought what that they can’t afford and what job they just chucked in. I have no doubt Wayne tells people of the poor spinster author with the messy house. I must remember to give him my website address when he is here. Any publicity is good.
*pergola = patio roof

I get a quote sent to me every morning from the Oprah website…thanks Oprah. I like quotes as they can be very uplifting, incredibly true or funny. I got this quote today.
The best part of waking up? The Benson-Henry Institute for Mind Body Medicine recommends first paying attention to your breath for a few minutes instead of jumping out of bed.

Oh Please! I am too busy pushing the tangled rats nest of hair from my eyes and trying not to fall on my face as I stumble outside to the kitchen to think about breathing. And who ‘jumps’ out of bed anyway? I usually roll over, swear and contemplate calling in sick. Surprisingly this only happens on a weekday…hmmm. If you are reading this…please remember to breathe.
Results on the Why did the chicken cross the road poll - as suspected you are all way too smart and went with the answer "to confuse and taunt mankind for ever more." Excellent.


Anny Cook said...

Breathe? I can barely find the bathroom. What are they, nuts?

Phoenix said...

If I ever get to the point where breathing requires thoughtful concentration, I should cease drinking immediately. Clearly I'd become too knackered (did I use this right, AJ?)

And I only jump anywhere when there's a fire. Or my cat's wet nose on my eyelid. That'll do it too.

Unknown said...

Knackered equals stuffed equals tired...

Phoenix said...

Smashed=drunk=??in aussie lingo??

Unknown said...

yes, we use smashed, blotto, paralytic, pissed as a newt, crockery feet, stonkered, rotten, off your face, got the wobbly boot on...we like a couple of drinks now and then