The possum whisperer…

The best iron fist in a velvet glove comment I heard today in relation to another person that they considered was a pain in the arse?

“She is stalked because of her rare beauty and a wit unseen before in human kind.” – anonymous

Sweet.

I was under the house talking to Wayne the possum when the electricity linesmen turned up. I mentioned on a previous blog these gentlemen look mighty fine in their linesman outfits. Anyway, there were three of them and I was covered in paint splatters talking to a marsupial that lives on the top of an old wardrobe. Pretty much same old, same old for me. And I wasn’t actually whispering to Wayne, it was more I was snapping at him for hissing at me because I had the old radio on loud as I worked. I went to get a paintbrush that is stored on a shelf near where Wayne has taken up residence. I get that he is a nocturnal creature and that light and noise pisses him off but it’s my turf and he just has to deal with it and not get all emotional at me. I don’t have time to deal with it. So I was telling him that, paintbrush in hand, when these men arrived. No, the gods had not sent three strapping blokes in uniforms to cater to my every whim, otherwise they would have been painting the stairs and not me. They were upgrading lines in the neighbourhood and needed access to my switchboard down stairs.

I pointed Wayne out to them. Not sure if they were more wary of me before or after this. It’s one thing to talk to yourself but another to talk to a possum. None wanted to try and get Wayne down off the wardrobe and take him for a drive though I did offer this adventure to them. They however just nodded and smiled and backed away from me. Oh well, I am going to put up with Wayne for the moment as I cannot keep spending money to have these little bastards relocated – and on the whole he is quiet. Though, I do think if you want to pick up a hunk of a visiting linesman, it’s maybe wise not to be talking to a possum. Just a helpful tip. Possums are bad for romance. Better write that down.

Not that I am looking for romance. Who has time for that? Yes, I believe it’s out there but unless I can fit it in between 2am and 3am it’s not going to happen. I have been told that I will burn myself out like Grandma Elsie. Now my grandmother was one of the best people I ever knew. She was dramatic and funny and it’s a family joke that she ‘burnt herself out young’

because she was so laid back and silent movie star like – but I think it’s true. Elsie married the wrong man and had children too late in life. Now my grandfather was not a mean man. He was a pragmatic Scot who married a dreamer. Elsie waited for her white knight to come and take her away to some fairytale land that never existed. They were mismatched – and yes, while I think opposites do attract it doesn’t mean they should be together. So I believe Grandma Elsie was burnt out from being with the wrong person but there is a history of that in my family and it’s something I have never been keen to follow. Yes, romance exists. I know it does. It just don’t marry it.

So what does any of this have to do with possum whispering? Absolutely stuff all.

Observation for today…

I was reading someone’s blog – can’t remember which one – anyway the blogger was saying that she was tiring of reading erotic romance books because of the sex in them and how it took over the plot at times. Hmmm…erotic romance. Erotic = sex. Erotic romance means sex with romance – ipso facto – there’s going to be sex…probably a lot of it. So, here’s a thought…maybe make a choice and don’t read it if the sex and ‘lack of a plot’ upsets you...

Have a pleasant Sunday…if you can’t be good, be fast.

www.amarindajones.com
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?