[m i a o w] the cat

It’s true. The wind is whistling through the trees, dust is blowing in through the windows that don’t have any glass and coating my laptop and irritating my skin. Ugh. It is So. Bloody. Dry. Am I actually in the sub-tropics? Isn’t a plodge of cleansing, warm rain supposed to arrive every day or two? No. No it isn’t. Why? Because it’s the driest it’s been in fifty years or something ridiculous. That is why our lovely little vegie garden is dead and M keeps climbing on the tank to check how much water we haven’t got. OK, so now I’m getting a little bit dramatic and pretending that my entire livelihood is tied up with the Land - we were actually surprised that the tank was two thirds full. I am going to sneak out tonight and water my garden with the [gasp] hose. Where’s Toto? (And shouldn’t that be spelled ‘Toe-Toe’? Because really, if we hadn’t ever heard of Dorothy et al. and just pronounced the word ‘ToTo’ on sight - surely you’d say something that sounded like ‘Two-Two’?) Yes, it’s true, the wind blew my brain straight out my right ear. Messy.