Australia Day makes me thankful

Thankful that I sometimes can't handle leaving the house. If ever there was an appropriate day for it, it's today.

I've dropped into a big migrainey spiral and I'm living off codeine lattes and leftover steamed vegetables, dreaming of having my own place where I can have domain of the cooking, cleaning and arranging of furniture.

this post is brought to you by the letter b and the number 812.

So...hey maybe I didn't get the internet back for a while.
But I'm back now and you can forgive me..and love me, and maybe even let me back inside your hearts because this doormat is itchy and I think there was a guy following me...Baby? Seriously, it's cold out here so just open the door a little so I know where you are...

FINE, I DON'T NEED YOU OR YOUR SHITTY SIX-BIT FUCKAROUND OF A READERSHIP, I CAN MAKE IT ON MY OWN I'LL BE JUST FINE.

I'm only kidding baby, I can change...

Anyway. I'm hoping I can use this blog to get me through the next year/time I'll have alone with the internet because my boyfriend works in a bar and doesn't get home until 4am at the earliest.

Here is my life as it develops:

I live in a flat with my boyfriend, a woman and her 13 year old son.

I am undergoing my first year in training as a hairdresser, primarily because I'm so scared of having an existential crisis that I refuse to try going to university and becoming a lawyer or a forensic scientist or a composer...that and the fact that it's highly doubtful that even if I did succeed in my studies nobody wants to hire a mentally dysrhythmic social cripple.

Away from home I have a very supportive family consisting of my mother, father, younger brother, an uncoordinated orange cat and the slightly older, kidney diseased bipolar cat.

I've found a boy who I'm pretty sure I want to marry and, failing that, am in agreement that in the next few weeks a 'deposit' will be made so that should he ever leave me, or not fulfill his 0-year life expectancy, I can still harbor his spawn. That kind of love.

In march, my best friend will be getting married to a man nine years older than her. We do not get along and they both happen to hate my boyfriend, so much so that he wasn't invited.

My other two best friends have recently begun dating.

Now that I feel this is up to speed I can start writing regularly without CONSTANTLY HAVING TO EXPLAIN MYSELF. Which is a lie, and I will do anyway because thats exactly what I did with my diaries when I could keep them and I'm pretty sure just as many people read this as have read my diary.

So right now I'm sitting in our room, furnished courtesy of my nana's taste in the sixties, on cadbury's-purple bedsheets, playing around on tumblr and listening to my next-door neighbors fight.

This fighting has been going on for about a week. I know this, not because I'm an eavesdropper (their argument isn't THAT interesting) but because their house is about a meter away from my room.

My only experience with my next door neighbors has been when the little boy I lived with was throwing watermelon into their pool (this isn't unusual behavior from him, I don't think he has 'usual behavior') and the woman who I can now hear using a very smarmy tone towards her son came up and talked to him AND ME about the 'incident', being kind enough to bring a fruit sample from her pool. Seriously.

This woman used exactly the same tone with me as she did with the boy, and with my boyfriend too. My boyfriend pretended to go to the bathroom and hid in there until he could control his chuckles. I, however sat there and listened to this woman who actually believed that I was throwing watermelon into her pool. I've done some pretty questionable things in my time but if you want to come into my house which I pay for, maintain and live peacefully by not having a screaming match and bothering the neighbors every damn night, and treat me like a child, don't expect me not to turn the hose on.

Anyway, this family seem to have some kind of invalid member, or pet that they always fight about, but it's never before 8pm and then they SCREAM, intermittently stopping to, I don't know, take enough breath to fuel another high-decibel 20 minute rant. This usually goes on until about 11pm.

Nobody is home right now and I've sustained a mild foot-wound just now, running to the bathroom. I might be clumsy but this house is a fucking death trap due to the fact that the woman we live with is CONSTANTLY moving things around or throwing them away. I was hurdling towards the lavvy at lighting pace when my foot found the metal bottom of the couch, and I landed with my knee in my ribcage, peeing myself a bit.

Such is an evening alone in my exciting life. Read this and encourage me to write more, I'll feel like less of a massive, mentally incompetent failure.