Saturday, 17 July 2010
"The Frocky Horror Picture Show"
This morning I woke up to rain. That's okay. I love to run in light rain. It's invigorating. It means the hot sun is not beating down on me in a debilitating fashion, and as a bonus I can pretend that I'm a super athlete who simply 'must run' regardless of the weather.
After my run I had a swim. This was also good. Considering that we're moving in less than a week (where to - is anyones guess) I am savouring every last bit of swimming pool action.
However, as I sat down in front of my laptop, a bowl of contraband granola cereal on my lap (more on that later), ready to properly begin my day, the most godawful banging began directly beside us.
Turns out Yoga Lady does not want to live in a hovel for the next five months, so she has press ganged the evil landlady Ms. Putu into refurbishing her little villa. Given that hired help can be had for as little as $3/day, it is no wonder Ms. Putu has acquiesed - if merely to appease the only person crazy enough to rent her former digs for a long lease in its current downtrodden state.
Given that Yoga Lady claims Interior Design credentials and Feng Shui expertise, Ms. Putu no doubt assumes she's coming out on top here, and she may well be, as long as she makes allowance for the fact that Yoga Lady is stark bonkers raving mad. Should be interesting. Might be worth a pop round in a few weeks to see the state of play - strictly for entertainment value mind.
At any rate, workmen spent most of the day today knocking down the interior walls. After one minute the husband got up and started pacing in an agitated fashion. After two minutes he suggested we move out early. After five minutes I began to construct mental fantasies whereby I was stringing up Yoga Lady by her neon pink tights over a swarming mass of giant rats, trying to gnaw at her idiotic wide brimmed Alice In Wonderland straw hat as she grinned manically saying, "This will be just perfect for my chapter on Rodents!"
Anyway, with the husband and I seconds away from losing the plot, we did what any self-respecting parents would do and left the monsters in Kadek's care with a box of oreos, instructions to swim, and took off on the scooter to our favourite cafe where we consoled ourselves with overpriced but delicious fresh mango juice and some desperately needed peace and quiet.
Later I slipped away, taking a stroll down some pretty lanes, tried on some pretty dresses, bought one of them, and continued on to another cafe where I whiled away a good hour playing around with new song lyrics, sipping a latte and people watching. It was wonderful.
When the husband picked me up on the way back, he was also in a stellar mood, and this continued until we got home and realised we'd neglected to get the children any treats.
All they wanted was granola. The husband has outlawed granola on account of the severe addiction they have for it. And on account of it costing a wallet numbing $7 a bag. Last week when we caved in and bought some, they each had six bowls in a row, polishing off the entire packet in one go. So the other day I sneakily bought myself some and have now resorted to hiding it in my big wardrobe where they will hopefully not find it. The husband gets a little bowl now and then when he's nice to me.
At any rate, the lesson I learned today is that there is nothing that a pretty, perfectly fitting frock can't do to restore sanity to a rat-addled, hammered-to-distress mind.