Category: Trailer Life (Page 1 of 19)
The weather today is probably my least favourite flavour. It’s howling with wind, but there is no rain to justify all the angst, it’s just blowing a gale. It’s not even that cold. Over at the ShedSpot at about 8am this morning, it was quite sheltered. M and I continued from yesterday, measuring and spading out 600x600mm squares that are right now being attacked by a post hole digger. Poor M. He’d already dug all these huge holes for the shed supports about two weeks ago, using nothing but a spade, a shovel, a maddock and his own grunt – but on Wednesday the site was levelled out with a whole lot of dirt, and all his holes got filled back up. Soul destroying. What’s more, the new dirt is almost all clay, and fairly undiggable – thus, the post hole digger has been hired.
I just checked the Bureau site and there is a strong wind warning for this area. I really have to start work scraping all the paint off the Sunliner, but it conflicts with my scenario of being outside with my radio, esky and armed with a scraper in the warming winter sunlight.
So here I go, experimenting with YouTube (I’ve been having lots of fun watching old Cocteau Twins video clips…)
(…if you have eyesight trouble, just click on the tiny arrow in the bottom left hand corner – I had to make it small to fit my new page design. Sigh.)
Last night before we turned out the light, I looked up and saw a mosquito hovering around the ceiling above our heads. I whacked and thwacked, while M tried to stay out of the way of my thrashing limbs. No joy. I lay down again and we observed the ceiling, squinting for a sign. Finally M sighed,
“It’s you he wants. Offer yourself to him.”
It happened last week, and it happened again this morning – as it has happened on several occasions before. M misplaced his wallet. If I was not a participant in the situation I would find it sort of cute, how each time is like the very first time. But I am a participant, and an increasingly unsupportive grumpy one.
It begins like this. He says “OK, bye!” and heads out the door. A minute later the door opens and I hear rustling. The rustling them moves from room to room (this process is quicker now we live in a four room trailer instead of a nine room Queendslander). Then the vocals kick in.
“Have you seen my wallet anywhere?”
I want to groan. I can sense that the wallet dance is looming, but try to hide it. “No. No I haven’t.”
I swear to myself that I’m not going to help him hunt for it, and snuggle further down into the bed.
His searching becomes frantic. He starts going through the laundry basket, turning out pockets, re-looking in places he’s already scoured. I can’t help myself.
“Have you tried the van?”
He tries the van. Again.
He returns empty handed.
“I remember I had it at the cafe yesterday when I paid. Maybe I dropped it in the carpark on the way to the van… It’s gone. It’s not anywhere. And now I can’t get petrol. Um… Do you have any cash?”
Of course I don’t , I never seem to have cash. So now I have to help, but in a good way. Search with my mouth shut. I heave out of bed, whack on the tracky bottoms and poke around a few places. Nothing. I pull on my boots and head out to the van. Look under the seats. In between the seats. M starts looking too. I open the side door. There’s a coat on top of his piles of mank that’s pretty much exactly the same as the one he’s wearing. I pick it up. It holds the wallet. I hand it to him and return to bed. The wallet dance stops.
I think it’s because I didn’t speak during this entire process that he didn’t organise to have lunch with me today.
UPDATE: M did return for lunch, and responded very charitably to my suggestion of having a spot where he puts his keys and wallet when he gets home. Yah!