Sick Of It

Argh. Another day at home today – this is the third time in six weeks I’ve had to take time off work. Tuesday and Wednesday I went in to work when I probably shouldn’t have but when you sleep from 5.00pm to 9.30am the next day your body is probably trying to tell you something. I’ve wanted to have a day off a week but the plan for that was to spend time with Bert, not to lie in bed or on the couch watching Battlestar Galactica.

It seems I haven’t been able to shake the original virus from those weeks ago which means its probably time for a complete going over at the hands of my doctor. Ugh. I know what he’s going to say – lose weight, eat healthier, exercise. Maybe my body is trying to tell me that as well. Maybe I should listen.

A Roof, But Not A Home

I mowed the lawns today and it confirmed what Rae and I were talking about the other day – we may have a roof over head, but we don’t feel like we have a home. In our previous place a freshly mown lawn would have us dragging out the garden chairs and enjoying lunch or a drink but here it was just another chore that had to be done this weekend.

This place, after six months, is still not feeling like home. The day we moved in to the old place it was home. The old place also holds a lot of our history – we were engaged in that house, married in that house and bought Bert home to that place. That builds up a lot of feeling for a home in a pretty short time.

So, what’s different about this place? There’s a couple of things. I guess the first is that we moved here under duress. The landlords at the old place were raising the rent to absurd levels and we had had strong indications they were thinking of selling. The agent wasn’t the best – but that was more the person responsible for our property than the agency. We had to move to somewhere that was better value for money and where we could actually get work done when needed. This place was a tick on both but it was a move we didn’t really want to make.

This year was also an odd one – summer ended one day and winter started the next, coincidentally on the weekend we moved. For almost six months we lived with the heater on and doors shut – and we hate that. Our families think we’re mad how we have our windows and doors open for fresh air on days they think are freezing, but this year it’s been too cold even for us. Feeling ‘stuck’ inside your own place is not a pleasant experience.

Then there’s the actual house. It was a ‘near enough is good enough’ option for us – what we didn’t realise was that we were moving in to a ‘near enough is good enough’ house. Rae has had experience of someone who was full of grand plans but left jobs half done or completed in the most half-arsed of manners and she says this place is the same.

The landlord has expanded and renovated an old 1950s weatherboard by building out. He’s put in a new kitchen, new laundry and new living area which all sounds good but it’s the manner in which he’s gone about it that makes the place seem temporary. I’ve lost count of the number of nails that jut out of walls, and the floor. Some are to anchor blinds, some must have once been for a purpose and some just seem to be there for no reason.

Work is only half done – a pelmet is missing in the living room, a shelf seems in danger of falling off, a door looks like it would come away if you were to close it, paint spots line the floor, no doors on the wardrobes (until Rae found some on Freecycle and put them on), cupboards don’t shut in the kitchen, a pipe sticks out of the bathroom wall for a toilet that was never installed and nothing seems solid. It’s livable, don’t get me wrong, but it’s such hotch potch it doesn’t endear itself to you with any ease.

Of course it’s not all doom and gloom. We’re living in an area we love and we only had to move from one end of the street to the other so nothing really changed that much. Plus we got extra value for significantly less each month – a dishwasher, better shed and air conditioning for the summer – all of which we appreciate and may make us happier on those 40 degree days when we can sit in our lounge and not be melting in to puddles.

We’re working on getting our own place. We’ve hit one major milestone in our savings this week although Albert’s child care is, like many other families, effectively wiping out our discretionary spending/savings. We budget down to the last dollar to make sure we can keep moving forward, but with the market continually surging it feels like we’re treading water, or maybe going under for the first time every now and then. Unfortunately as Rae had her name on a house for all of three months many many years ago we don’t qualify for the first home owners grant so we’re a few thousand dollars behind the eight ball. We’ve committed ourselves to staying here for a few years  to get to our target before we make the move. We may have to build a long way out to get a start, by then anything around here will be so far out of our reach it’s scary to think about.

So for now I’ll mow the lawn every few weeks and hope that those days have brought us a little closer to both a new roof over our heads and new home for our family.

I’m From Barcelona

I’m not sure if Australian radio has picked this up yet, and it would probably be only JJJ who would, but if you want to hear and see what is possibly the catchiest song ever recorded check out We’re From Barcelona’s  ”I’m From Barcelona“.

Just to confuse matters, they come from Sweden and their name comes from that classic British comedy.

Give Me Back My Daily Bread

I am bereft – my toast has been discontinued. What am I to do? George Western Foods, in their infinite wisdom, have ‘deleted’ Noble Rise Crunchy White Toast from their Noble Rise range. It was the best toast bread at the supermarket and now I’m stuck with thin, non-crunchy bits of bread that are called ‘toast’ but pale in comparison.

So, now I have a dilemma – do I start working my way through all the brands of ‘toast’ bread at the supermarket or do I simply switch back to cereal after 20 years of vegemite or peanut butter on toast?

There’s Always Next Year

I’ve stopped crying now so I guess I can write about it. A poor performance in the last round means there is no September action. No, I’m not talking about Richmond’s 9th placing, I’m talking about the footy tipping.

With six people in a position to win the final round’s tipping called for cool heads to prevail but it seems all of us but one went for an outside tip, or two. It was Miss Marita who kept her head, tipped the obvious choices and came home with a stunning round of 8 to sit two clear on top. Runners up were Rae and Nigel – the Englishman who doesn’t know what a footy looks like but is constantly hovering around the top of the tipping comp. I’m so glad Nigel didn’t win, posting him the trophy would have bankrupted us.

Congratulations Miss Marita – our first two time winner. The World’s Ugliest Trophy will be presented on Grand Final day. I’m sure you’ve cleared a place on your mantel for it already.

Under Old Management – Cut Paw Paw Cafe in Yarraville Is Back!

Late last year I lamented the loss of one of our two favourite cafes, The Cut Paw Paw in Yarraville. We tried it again a couple of times after that but as you can see in the comments on that post a few people agreed with me.

Well, I am happy to report that Cut Paw Paw is returning to its former self – Leo and the original staff are back!

It turns out that Leo had only leased the place for a year while he travelled around the world. I had a brief chat with him this morning and he fully realises what has happened to his business and the job he has ahead to resurrect it. While The Coat will always be our number one it’s great to know that we again have somewhere to go when we make our excursions to Yarraville.

Welcome back Leo, it’s good to have you and Paw Paw back.