I wasted the day and it is lying heavily upon my conscious (yes, I do have a conscious, though often times it is used only slightly more frequently than Lance Armstrong’s). It lies heavily because every time I drive through the Village I pass a message board operated by the local high school upon which they left the damn message “Every day counts” at the end of the school year. I’ve had enough; I am going to find another way to drive through the Village.

I wasted the day. It was 40C heat outside so that nullified any attempt doing anything outside, even if I had been motivated.

I did get out of bed, and I fed Augie Dog his breakfast mix. Then I made toast for both of us. I had fruit toast, Augie had white bread cut into quarters to stop him gulping his toast down in one swallow. It took him four swallows and he was back circling me before I had even got my tea and toast to the breakfast table.

Opening the screen door to allow Augie to go outside resulted in two hornets and a wasp of the insect kind flying into the house. (Notice I made the distinction of hornets and wasps being insects? The city where I teach has a nearby air base and a hornet can have a whole different meaning there!) The insects flew about the house, and I chased them with a can of insect spray, so they flew higher towards the loft windows before being blocked by more insect screens (screens work for you, but they can also work against you).

Spray can in hand I pirouette like the prima donna ballerina I could have been if only I had taken classical ballet lessons, in an endeavour to land some insecticide on the insects perched fifteen feet above my head. They must have received a whiff of it, or just took offence at the neighbourhood they had just moved into, because one kinda sort fell, dive bombed, to the floor where I was able to give it one last shower of spray.

Then Augie rushed in for the kill and ate it.

I spent the next hour worrying that he was about to die, and wondering whether I loved him enough to perform mouth to mouth if required (I decided no, but that Mr FD would and  then I could spend the rest of our lives accusing Mr FD of having dog breath; so there is a silver lining to every cloud). In the end I informed Augie he was in my bad books and ignored him for a good 47 seconds until he came to me with his favourite ball on a rope and sat in my lap. Well, his head and front paws sat in my lap, the rest of him sprawled across the floor. We breed ‘em big in the country!

It was about then I noticed the goanna making its leisurely way across Augie’s yard. It was inside the fenced area just off the patio and I pondered why, when there are acres of ground to wander, why the ugly brute had to cut across our land and right next to our house. Perhaps I need to place designated route signs for wildlife. Wildlife scenic tour signs for the wildlife!

This led me to ponder and then to contemplate the wisdom of our move to the country where every thing seems to be trying to bite me, sting me or frighten the shit out of me. My mood wasn’t helped by the sound of kookaburras laughing in the neighbours trees as if they read my mind.

The ringing of the phone interrupted my gloom. MIL’s house  remains vacant despite her being a permanent resident in care as she harbours fantasies that one day, tomorrow, she will rise from her bed in the body of a twenty year old and  go home, hence she won’t entertain the thought of selling the house.

MIL’s next door neighbour who is both a bully and I am sure a witch; the type of character that gets done in early in an Agatha Christie murder where everyone has a motive for killing her, has been collecting feral cats. Some she feeds in MIL’s yard which we have tolerated until now because she keeps an eye on the place. However, some of the other neighbours don’t have quite the same view and have complained to the local council, who consequently sent a letter to all residents in the street informing them that they are going to start trapping feral cats next week.

Neighbour wants SIL to contact the council and say we are okay with the feral cats, which of course we aren’t at all. SIL felt like the knife was at her throat. My opinion was that as we don’t actually live there we had no right to interfere in the lives of the residents, which seemed to soothe her quandary a little. Neighbour said she has five people who have said they will contact the council to state that they don’t want the cats trapped. My opinion is that they are just saying that to her face and are secretly dancing with joy behind their drawn curtains. I suggested to SIL that she does nothing and wait for the saga to take its natural course, which if we are lucky will end with neighbour strapped to a dunking chair in the nearest storm drain.

All this trauma and drama necessitated several hours sitting on the couch watching mindless television and the endless repeat news cycle which many of you will agree is one and the same thing.

Late afternoon, the domestic goddess within got her act into gear and put dinner into the oven. Mr FD went outside to water our potted plants. Yesterday he took Augie out with him and Augie had a great time digging holes in the mud and rolling around in dirt piles to the degree he was in much need  of a bath, so this time Mr FD left Augie behind in air conditioned cleanliness.

Augie started to whimper thinking he was HOME ALONE, so I called his name to alert him to my presence. I had the oven open and was checking the dinner when I happened to glance over at Augie – just as he finished a wee on the kitchen floor that would have had Noah and his ark afloat for a lot longer than 40 days and nights. He was obviously out for revenge, the ungrateful mutt. No, actually he isn’t a mutt, the dent in out bank account and the length of the family tree his breeder handed us proves that, and so he should have better manners.

So, yes, I have wasted the day, or rather, the day wasted me. Tomorrow is another day indeed, Scarlet, I am just not sure if I will poke my head out from beneath the bed sheet that’s all. If I am going to waste another day, I want it to be my way.