Twenty-Something?

Tomorrow I am not a twenty-something anymore. I am THIRTY! Geez. If I'd been a true rock n' roller I would have been dead at 27. I never considered being any other age than one that started with the number 2!! But, like I said to my boss today, the only thing I can do about it is be hit by a bus before 2:55pm tomorrow...so I should just roll with it, buy some more pseudo anti-aging products and start looking indulgently at all those kids who think that age 29 is a one-way ticket to nowhere!! (Apparently women feel more comfortable with themselves after they've turned thirty...I'll say it again....thirty. So I have that to look forward to.) I have to admit that those of my friends who have turned thirty (most of them) haven't changed in any obviously horrifying way. So yeah. With the stress of this week trickling slowly from my veins as it is replaced by the soothing liquids of red wine and Coopers Sparkling Ale bought for me by my boss who was trying to console me...I'm not feeling half bad!!

There is nothing. I must repeat. Nothing that I can do to get this house sorted out that I haven't done in the past two days. M and I have got quotes from an electrician, two plumbers, and have arranged and co-ordinated a building inspection. He has put together an awesome quote for the work that needs to be done, I have braved the worst thing and man-handled my mother down to St Kilda Police Station (the blue light disco to those who are familiar with its facade) to sign a statutory declaration. I am secure in the belief that there is nothing else remotely possible that I could have done to secure this property, besides bribing or seducing Jamie Packer or someone equally moneyed. So there.

I was so lightheaded with relief (and two beers) that I caught the train home to the wrong station!! M was sweet and had bought a bottle of wine and cooked me dinner...he is currently passed out on the couch and I have been the Queen of the Remote Control. I have watched Will & Grace (with guilty satisfaction...though Lisa likes it too), the amazing Australian Story about Peter Brocklehurst and an equally excellent documentary on the building of Federation Square. I never thought I would get a shiver from hearing a tenor...but Peter Brocklehurst did it for me - his story was extraordinary.

Well...yep. I'm sounding kind of perky (oh god...can I legitimately use that word after tomorrow? Surely. Kylie is known for her perkiness, and she is older than I. Perkiness is not all....that shall be my mantra) for I am feeling fatalistic about everything related to real estate. My birthday? I always worry at my own parties that I don't get to talk to anyone in particular and just flit about all night, but tomorrow night, almost everyone I could want to attend is coming along...and I am so exhausted I am just going to arrange the music and some cheap beer, find a seat, and sit in it...all night. I can if I want. It's not every day you get to kick on into a whole 'nother decade!