Boy she blew and back again

I am in a really good mood at the moment. Relaxed and happy, exams are over, the student visa secured, we can enjoy the next three years no worries. All in all, I wake up with a smile on my face. Yesterday was the same. I woke up smily and happy, tired, but happy. And because I was tired, I did go back to bed, like I was contemplating in yesterday’s blog. So I woke up later, happy and rested. I had a lovely breakfast with Mr Husband and then decided to leave the house. BIG mistake. I was not ready for the world.

I had decided to embark on two projects, which have been itching in me for months:
1. get shelves for the balcony so we don’t have random shit lying around
2. create a small herb garden so we can stop paying $4 for a bunch of herbs (which die in 2 days) every time we want tasty food. This is especially true for the rosemary, which we use for  just about anything.

Destination Bunnings.

Big smile on my face, I grab a trolley, wiz through Bunnings and find my things. Shelves – check, pots – check, seeds – check, fertilizer,  water crystals, soil – check, check, check. Go Signe! All I needed now was the rosemary. It took me 15 minutes to find it. Three little pots of rotten plants at the price of $8. What? I decide to ask, if maybe they have some more, somewhere else. I walked towards a Bunnings lady in the garden area who is watering plants despite the rain pissing down. She starts shouting at me before I reach her: ‘I don’t work in the garden department, so don’t ask me anything’. OK, you could have fooled me, but I will find someone else. 10 minutes later a Bunnings man appear from behind a shelf. I hunt him down. Big smile, ‘excuse me sir’ and I get a monster pissy answer: ‘we get new plants on Friday’. I strive on and ask ‘are you getting rosemary?’. Sour pissy face says: ‘I don’t know’

Right. OK. You are in charge of the outside garden department. No wonder you hide behind the shelves. Smiley me is not defeated yet, I can get rosemary somewhere else or another day. Off to do the grocery shopping, before heading home. First in bottleshop, where the Italian wine section has shrunk from one and a half shelf section to only one. All the regular wine we buy is gone. Pissy wine store person asks ‘are you happy browsing there?’ (I should have said yes, I know that now) With a warm smile I say: ‘the section seems to have gotten smaller and the wines we normally get are not here’. Wineman’s face turns sour and pissy: ‘Noooo, the French wine section has always had two shelves and the Italian one. We’ve moved them around, so maybe you just can’t find them’ Well pardon me! I grab a bottle and leave.

At the supermarket, things go well until I have to pay. I line up at the selfservice section, it is full of people, we wait for yonkers of time. While I wait, I get out my eco-bag, unfold it, ready in hand. A machine becomes available, I make my way over and TA DA gets stopped by a sour pissy face that says: ‘you cannot use that one, it has no bags’ – ‘but I have my own’ – ‘you cannot use this, it has no baaaags’.

WHAT the fuck is wrong with you people? Is Monday the official ‘sour pissy face’ retail day? I am grateful I am on my way home, all shopping done. In the car I put on Jimmy Cliff “I can see clearly now” as pure antidote and cheer myself up. I arrive home and find the gate to our secure gated community closed for the first time in three months. That is OK, because they warned us. The management picked up our remote 10 days ago ‘they will be reprogrammed’, gave it back 3 days ago ‘there you go, all set’ and here I was. Do you think it worked? Of course not. Do you think it had stopped raining, just because Jimmy Cliff could see clearly? Of course not. I park my car outside the gate, make my way through the monsoon and go to the office, where a normally very friendly management lady, has turned into: a sour pissy-face monster:

Me: excuse me, I cannot get the remote to work
Sour Pissy- face Management lady: You need to talk to your real estate agent
Me: I’m not sure I understand
Sour Pissy-face Management lady: You need to talk to your real estate agent
Me: But you are the one who picked up the remote and gave it back saying it worked. How can the real estate agent help with that?
Sour Pissy-face Management lady: Your remote doesn’t work
Me: Well, it is working, the lights are on, it just doesn’t work with the gate
Sour Pissy-face Management lady: You need to talk to your real estate agent
Me (loosing my temper): why did you return a remote to me, that you knew wouldn’t work?
Sour Pissy-face Management lady: You need to talk to your real estate agent, you need another remote
Me (fighting hard): Are you serious? You waited until I was stuck outside the gate in pouring rain to tell me that my remote wont work? You could not have said that three days ago when you returned it.
Sour Pissy-face Management lady: I can let you in now, but from now on you have to park outside the gate

BOOOMM it said in my head. I had the good sense to leave.

Once home I took 100 deep breaths before I called the real estate agent. This was the answer: “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. Bev is in charge of your property, she’s not here” – HO HO HO and a bottle of rum, boy did she blow! The secretary said she would see what she could do. We all know North Queensland time, so needless to say, we are stuck outside the gate, in the rain season, for a looong time.

Despite having lost my temper completely, I decided to continue with the two projects I set out to do. Because stupid pissy sour face people were not going to take away the good things, I had set out to do for myself. REALITY CHECK! This is what I was doing two minutes later:

Mr Husband came out to help. He reconsidered that endeavour in less than 3 seconds. Then he served a glass of juice, which I of course managed to knock over. Then he disappeared. One hundred million screws later, I had this:

Cheered by the good result, I continued on with this and turned it into this:

Then I found an old camping chair, stuffed it with pillows and a nice blanket I crochet last year, sat down with my current project, soda, music and looked out the window.

When I looked up two hours later, Jimmy Cliff and I were so on the same page again

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Boy she blew and back again

  1. Pingback: Oh when the revolution comes | Creative Signe

  2. Pingback: YAY for Sunday! | Creative Signe

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