What women think
December 2008
I'm losing my mind
The first time I noticed it was the other Saturday morning ... when I woke up, I stripped the bed in readiness to wash the sheets.
I took the sheets downstairs to the laundry. Looking out the laundry door, I saw the Saturday papers on the lawn. It always delights me that someone has a good heart and a robust spirit to rise at midnight, wrap newspapers in clingfilm and drive around the suburb chucking them out a car window.
I'll get back to the laundry load, I think, just after I get the papers off the lawn and read the front page.
Walking back from the lawn, I see that no one bothered to collect yesterday's mail. I open the letterbox and see the Ikea 2009 catalogue. I walk over to the outdoor setting and sit down to make plans for the Swedish-inspired minimalist lifestyle I aspire to.
As I open the catalogue, another letter falls out. It's from the gas company. I open it up, and notice that it is marked 'overdue'. Oh s**t.
I get up from the outdoor table and head straight upstairs to the computer to log onto the internet to pay the gas bill. But when the internet starts up, it takes me straight to the brisbanetimes.com.au page and I start reading how three to four drinks a day can ruin your eyesight.
I straight away look up optometrists in an attempt to make a booking for Monday to have my eyes checked. Actually, I upgraded to an ophthalmologist! When only the best will do.
I wanted to write their number down and hunting looking for a pen, and noticed that there were two wine glasses on a book shelf in the hallway. How on earth did they end up on the book shelf, and not in the dishwasher?
I tried to remember what happened last night and then it struck me. I had told Lover Bloke I'd take the glasses to the kitchen en route to the loo but had realised my bladder was doing an herculean effort to not burst its dam. I dumped the glasses on the nearest flat surface and went to pee.
Being a Virgo, I knew unequivocally they could not remain there and scooped them up and raced to the dishwasher. Which was clean, but full. So I started to unpack it.
Holding my favourite tea cup in my hand, I realised I hadn't made a cup of tea yet, so filled the kettle with fresh water and turned it on.
While waiting for it to boil, I looked out over the deck and noticed that the plants needed some water. I grabbed the watering can and began soaking the plants, admiring the blooming gardenias I had in matching tubs.
What a great idea, I suddenly thought - to cut a few and put them in shallow dishes around the house so the wonderful aroma that is characteristically gardenia would fill my home.
Back inside, I started looking for a pair of scissors when the dog dodges around under my feet. Dear little pup, I think, patting her tiny mini fox terrier frame. She is probably looking for some food. I get her dry food from the top of the fridge, pick up her bowl, and notice it's still a bit dirty from her dinner the night before.
I head to the sink to give it a quick rinse when I notice steam rising out of the kettle and my longing for a cup of tea overtakes my desire to feed poor pup.
I'm in the pantry getting out a tea bag when I notice the honey jar is sitting in a sticky puddle. Silently I blame Lover Bloke and wet the dishcloth to clean up the mess before the ants do. Oh well, while I'm here, I may as well do a bit of tidying and rearranging of food items.
It is then that I discover a box of tea light candles that had been missing in action. Oh goodie! I can replenish the candles I keep on the dining room table. I walk to the dining room and find the remote control sitting forlornly on its walnut table top.
Not even bothering to wonder how it got there, I pick it up and take it to the living room to return it to its rightful place. Mmm, may as well see what's on, don't you think?
Foxtel is playing Bridget Jones's Diary. Even though I own the DVD for both BJD one and two plus the books, I sit down to watch our second favourite single gal (Carrie Bradshaw being #1 only because her shoes are better) stumble through the gauntlet of singledom.
Halfway through I remember that a single gal-pal of mine went out with her new Lover Bloke last night and give her a call to see how it went. We chat for a while and agree to meet for a quick lunch to dissect details and analyse the text message he sent her this morning (it read: Hi baby, had a great time last night, looking forward to seeing you again x).
Did he call her baby because he couldn't remember her name? Or was he simply being affectionate? Did he only want to see her again because she didn't sleep with him or is he really into her? Is a single kiss enough or should he have put two or three?
Home from lunch, I think a nice lie down for an hour is on the cards.
I walk into my bedroom and stare blankly at a bare mattress.
Where the hell are my sheets???
And then it all comes back to me: the sheets are sitting in a messy pile on the floor next to the washing machine. I have a gas bill that is overdue and still unpaid. My dog is hungry. The Ikea catalogue is still outside on the table. The dishwasher needs to be unpacked.
Whatever makes me tick obviously needs winding. Sure, I can soar like an eagle, but I have a lot of trouble with the landing.
And I still haven't had a cup of tea.
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