I hope you all enjoyed a nice break over Easter, for those of you that got a break. I worked every day of the Easter weekend except for Easter Tuesday/replacement for ANZAC day public holiday.
This didn’t worry me so much. A few friends and family expressed sadness or dismay at the fact I worked so much of the break.
But I ran it by J-Creezy and he was all, “Ain’t no thang.”
The truth is I didn’t even have time to care. My younger sister had headed away for the weekend with her partner and I agreed to house-sit for her. House-sitting usually implies staying at the house you intend to care for – I didn’t even get to do that. I headed there daily and fed the cats, changed the kitty litter when I had to and entertained them for 10 minutes, usually by way of made-up facts about Steve Perry (of Journey fame), a funny anecdote about my day or improvised stand-up comedy routine.
They were so disgusted by my efforts to entertain them, they usually peed all over the hallway or decided to give birth to a poop monster while I was actually changing the kitty litter. What, you couldn’t wait 2 minutes?!
It’s far too easy for me to grow facial hair. If that was some sort of superpower or worth anything in life, I would be considered amongst the greats to roam this earth. I know that beard-growing championships exist, but my beard doesn’t really grow down, it just grows out and goes a bit crazy, like an afro for my face.
So I’m sitting at home on a Saturday night writing this and working on some presentations for uni next week at the same time – one is on Age Discrimination in the Workplace and the other is on Performance-based Pay. Enthralling stuff. I’ve been trying to find a bunch of pictures of old people in workplace scenarios. Google image is not always your friend.
I’ve actually managed to complete exactly what I need to, so now it’s a matter of deciding the pace of my speech and how many times I want to use hand gestures for emphatic and dramatic purposes.
Maybe I’ll even go all William Shatner on it and… Pause. Un-even-ly. Gesturealltoowillingly. Make… A point! Butnotsomuch.
I took in the movie Paul with a co-worker during the week. Good times were had. Admittedly, I could’ve been portrayed in a kinder light, but that’s what happens when you sign your life away to a biographer. Seriously, though, it’s quite a funny movie. It got a little too all-paths-converge-into-one for me, but I enjoyed the ride all the same. Nick Frost and Simon Pegg are great as usual, and the sci-fi references come thick and fast throughout. So much so that it may alienate (See what I did there? Haw haw) some viewers who aren’t too familiar with many of the classic sci-fi films.
I also partook in the inspection of a property that I wished to purchase. Now, at the time that I saw it, I was told that it would be sold by this weekend. This came true. But not before the madness that was Friday morning.
After inspecting the unit, I decided that it was not only affordable, but also a pretty solid investment. Friday morning consisted of meeting with my financial advisor to apply for a loan and then heading to see the real estate agent that had shown me through the property to make an official offer. I find it interesting that it can take two weeks to get a change of address sticker from VicRoads, yet you can willingly sign your life away in approximately two hours.
Friday was quite surreal. The whole time I was thinking, “Wow, I could be a homeowner by tomorrow”. That’s so disturbingly grown-up, especially for me. Even now, I’m thinking had I seen ‘grown-up’ Paul in the street, I would kick him in the shins and scamper while making underarm fart noises. But to channel the time-tested wisdom of Blink-182, I guess this is growing up.
Either way, I got outbid. I wasn’t necessarily disappointed, but my real estate agent was.
She sent me a text message telling me to “have a good weekend… Well, try to…” And then stating that being the 2nd best real estate agent was not an option and that she’s going to help me purchase something, with no less than three exclamation points.
I like it when people care about their jobs and the impact of their dealings. I mean, I did send her a message saying it wasn’t the end of the world and that there’s plenty of other slabs of concrete with walls and roofs out there for me, but I thanked her for not only her efforts over the short amount of time that I have dealt with her but also being upfront and honest – a rare find in the real estate game.
Now onto last week’s entry. This is by no means an apology or anything, but I wrote it after a particularly trying day at work, hence the lack of the funny-funny-ha-ha I usually try to insert into these posts.
Anger has always been a strange emotion for me. Sometimes I am able to mask it quite well and there have been times where I’ve broken out into an apoplectic fit and Hulked out. I can’t even be bothered going into the finer details of what it was that got me feeling all riled up because it’s that stupid a thing that it’s not even worth repeating. I only mention it because it has been a long time since I have felt that angry and I felt that it had an impact on my writing that you are nice enough to be taking the time to read – so thank you.
And a champagne bottle just popped in our wine rack and went all over the carpet. I kid you not. Unless someone next door is having sex that’s probably one of the strangest things to happen in this house.
‘Til next time!