all manner of strange things

I don't whether or not it is a good sign that one of the highlights of my week so far is the discovery of this scrumptious peanut butter kit kat; whatever, it is absolutely delicioso.

Today has been the day of compulsive list writing. I have this overwhelming desire to feel that I have at least some control in my life at the moment and this exercise goes a little (i.e. miniscule) way to sating said desire. So I am listed up and enthused at clearing my personal admin, getting my first Luli&Free collection underway and (nicely) harassing the Home Office. Must try and keep the momentum going longer than the next 24 hours.

Two things have been playing on my mind today that are completely unrelated. 1. The two charming chaps that have taken up residence in my bin room downstairs; and 2. My crazy ex-flatmate who used to speak to her cats (and not in the normal way that most people speak to their animals).

1. Bin Room People. After months of on and off occupation my favourite squatters are back. I went downstairs today to have a chat to them, and advise that they best move on (before they get arrested again). I arranged for an outreach worker to try and get them a hostel referral and reminded them, (with only a touch of evangelical vigour), that as tempting as it is to get out of your face on crack and white lightening, sooner or later its gonna lose its glamour. Don't get me wrong, I like recreational substance abuse as much as the next person and in my younger years managed to go through enough white powder and pills that I put my fellow Chadwick girls to shame, but come on, a bin room? Having said all that, when I went down to chat to them, they were mopping and sweeping the floors. I actually think that they are probably the cleanest residents in our inner-city, overly trendy, ridiculously expensive & uttterly filthy street.

2. T. My crazy, Commonwealth Government Employed, ex flatmate. She really was a sweet girl and fabulously easy to live with. I suspect that the ease of the living situation was enhanced by the fact that I was very rarely at home and spending most of the time at my then boyfriend's place. T would regale me with her stories of daily life each time we happened to spend more than 1 minute in the same room (actually it was more of a mix of boredom & astonishment, which is a strange mix, especially when someone is talking to you through the bathroom door as you try to enjoy your bath). Among the best of these were how it is a fact that the Government rosters more staff in their call centres each month at full moon, due to a shift in the national behaviour patters (she knows, she did the rostering). Another favourite was when I was sitting in the loungeroom one morning, gulping down cofffee while I waited for my cab to turn up to take me to work. I was minding my own business, blurry eyed and trying to focus on lighting my cigarette. Everything was completely normal until she starts to talk to the Cat. Not just a normal, "Good morning sweetness" or "Are you hungry?" but a complete conversation with the requisite breaks in her questions to allow the Cat to respond. In fact, she wouldn't move to the next question until there had been some form of Cat reply. I mumbled something about the cat being cute, and she advised me that they spoke like this, AT LEAST, one hour a day.

Tres bizarre. I'm sure If I was seeing a therapist at the moment they would be able to tie the themes of homelessness, crazy flatmates and mess into a very accurate reflection on my current state of mind. However, I think I'd just prefer a kit kat.