Days 1 to 5 of 2010

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I spent New Years in Melbourne where the weather was being its usual obstinate self. Rain, thunder, rain, 22C, rain, should not have worn sandals. Rain. Come back to Sydney. Sunny. Next day: Sunny. Rest of the week: Sunny.

It infuriates me I tell you.

Meanwhile, I'm still pretty tired. Man from Mars and I zoomed back to our respective cities in the earlybird hours of Monday morning and I don't think I've caught up on my sleep debt. Here are the highlights of my week gone by:

1. Man from Mars' dad made satay on the barbecue and we ate them hungrily like the meat eating carnivores we are;


2. We watched Mary and Max on Foxtel. The sweetest movie I ever saw. Go you good thing, Adam Elliot (picture, above);


3. We watched Ironman on Foxtel. The onscreen chemistry between Roberty Downey Jnr and Gwyneth Paltrow was questionable at best;


4. Man from Mars bought awesome clothes with his Christmas gift voucher. I realised I forgot to bring work clothes for Monday and spent my gift voucher on a work dress. (Vouchers never really seem to go towards something awesome- it's always something comletely disappointing-- like a pair of cargo pants or an oversized beach bag or some body lotion with weird zinc incorporated so that you don't get sunburnt. Stuff I wouldn't buy if I was using my own money.)


5. We went bike riding in Jells Park. My crotch was in pain on day 2. In pain. Even sitting squarely on the seat of my pants hurt like crazytown after riding for 4 hours over those two days. I bow down in respect to those Tour de France cyclists;


6. Man from Mars' sister made quiche and we had it for dinner on Sunday. She's turning into quite the baker. And last but never least:


7. On the way back, I went through security at the airport, I took off my watch so that I wouldn't trigger the detector and then went to the airport toilets. Hooked my handbag to the back of the door, didn't hook it properly, bag fell down, watch fell out on impact and disappeared somewhere. I looked all around the cubicle, literally went down on my hands and knees and realised that it had gone where nothing deserves to go. That's right, behind the sanitary bin.

Cue: Conundrum.

Hygiene versus Watch of Great Sentimental Value.

I am torn.

I stare at the bin in horror. Must I touch that thing??

Then the alarm on my phone starts ringing, an announcement comes over the loudspeaker telling me to get to my gate for boarding and the queue outside the cubicles gets rowdy.

It's fight or flight time. I cringe, squint my eyes, hold my breath and shove the bin forward with the back of my fist. I clutch at the ground, straining to reach my watch and...

Success.

My watch is saved. I am officially a hero.

I bang my way out of my cubicle and scrub that jackass to high heaven. And as it gleams in the fluorescent lights of the airport I douse the whole thing in Dettol Antibacterial Hand Sanitiser for good measure.

What an epic weekend.

In other news, today I made the most embarrassing spelling mistake. I was trying to find the name of this hamburger bar Man from Mars and I went to in Federation Square. Guess what I googled?

"Federation Square" and "handburger".

Yes, handburger.

And the worst thing is, when I typed it I didn't even feel like I had made a typo.

That's it, I need to go back to Year 3 spelling. That, or I need to get myself a new brain.