I've just reminded Dave to put the rubbish out. When you get older, as Dave's mate Gene remarked, memory is the second thing to go. Dave might just be an exception to that but we won't go there.
We're heading down to Bonny's this afternoon, which is excellent in my book. There's a 5km circuit around the Grange golf course, which Bonny's apartment backs onto, and we walk it most nights we're over there.
First possums I've ever seen, too. Dog, they stink. You can find them easily, and around about dusk they're just starting to come out of hiding. Dave reckons they're worse than pitbulls when it comes to a scrap, but they'd have to catch me first. (My back leg sems to be getting better finally, though jumping can still be a bit of a mission. I can certainly give Brodie a run for his money. Brodie is a hunk of a golden retriever who lives part way round the golf course. I did have a few thoughts, but "retrauzers"? I think not. It's as bad as being called "Zowie Bowie" or Suri. I mean, how in hell do her super-cool parents imagine she's going to avoid being called "Sewery" come school time.)
It's been an interesting week. Lerey came for a visit after Joy's birthday party, and she and Bonny were making girl remarks about Dave's "bachelor pad". Dave kind of agreed in principle that if Bonny was going to be here more often, there did need to be a place where people could hang out without Dave's bed smack in the middle of the social interaction, as it were, especially unmade as it usually is. Well, to cut a long story short, Dave went up the road to the supermarket for milk and stuff, and by the time he'd come back, the bed and the chest of drawers were out of the way, the pet spiders had been vacuumed up and the dining room sofa and an armchair had been installed. This meant that the bedroom shifted back to the clinic and the clinic reverted to the back store-room where it used to be and the spare bedroom soaked up everything left over in the meantime.
Everything was scrubbed down, and by the time it was all over on Thursday, there was hardly a fly left for me to catch, or a spider web to be seen, and the glare off the ceiling and walls in the bedroom and new clinic was awesome. Dave tends to be into soft focus, so this was quite new, really. Almost Australian — though they're really neurotic about spiders. (I see the funnelwebs are invading Sydney suburbs in huge numbers this summer. If ever there was a country that Dog did not intend to be inhabited by normal human beings or animals, Aussie would be right up there, wouldn't it. )
Thursday 11 February 2010
Dog, I hate Nigel Kennedy. In fact I hate all violins, but Dave has been playing a lot of Kennedy lately and frankly his violin playing is like his hair, spiky, and it gets right in my ear where it's bloody uncomfortable. Fortunately, Bonny's room is reasonably soundproof, even with the door open, and that's where I usually hang out, or outside, on the back deck.
The de-bachelorisation here is proceeding apace, which is no bad thing. I suspect the stress of it all is getting to Dave, however much he is in theoretical favour of it all. He's had two SVT attacks in the last fortnight or so, and a night in hospital when the second one did not go away by itself. I was left behind in the house to worry by myself for several hours until Bonny came back. He's also complaining, and I mean COMPLAINING, about extra strong heartbeats at the slightest exertion.
(Speaking about extra strong heart beats, there's been a few hunky looking dogs hanging around the place lately. Ah well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.... I see that Dave has hunted out the wire lead and the dog chain, so the mountin' might have to come to me. Are my chances any better than what's his name's, p.b.u.h? Watch this space.)
They checked out Dave's heart at the hospital and as far as they can tell it's OK, even if the part that regulates the heart rate is losing it occasionally. He's not about to die of a heart attack. Anyway, Audrey gave Dave some pills and a green prescription, and he seems to be more or less back to normal, which I think we can still improve on.
The weather lately has been muggy and Dave has the French doors open until he goes to bed. I discovered that if I sit just inside the doorway I am on the flightpath of all sorts of interesting bugs that come in to check out the light.
Catch you later. I'm just off down to the supermarket and the library with Dave.
