another 24 hours of madness

I’m trying to get myself sorted before going. While I’m making an effort, it seems that no one else is. This is what is on the to-do list on my last day before leaving:

  • Mr Husband’s workplace messed up his super. It needs to be moved to another company
  • the real estate agent still has not come up with a renewal contract for our flat, despite me calling twice and showing in their office once
  • the health insurance company has lost all of our receipts that we were claiming and want new ones (this is when being an office-nazi comes in handy. I have copies)
  • Telstra. Let me make it brief and say I need to write a complaint. If I don’t, I will lose all self-respect.

On the up-side, the university has decided that I do not need to pack up my office for the three months I’m away. Normally they want the space available for short-term visitors.

That’s the only up side I can come up with.

Right now, the 15 hour flight from Brisbane to Dubai seems like the best offer ever. 15 hours where no one can get a hold of me. 15 hours where I sit still, sleep, read, listen to music, watch a movie and crochet. Because guess who bought crochet needles both in bamboo and plastic? And a new novel by Fred Vargas. Oh yes, I’m prepared! I will be the only passenger on that plane who will stay happily seated, even after 15 hours. AND look forward to the connecting flight, a 7 hour jump from Dubai to Copenhagen. Just need to get through another 24 hours of running around like a mad woman and I’m there.

 

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2 thoughts on “another 24 hours of madness

  1. I’m wondering why Mr. Husband doesn’t attend to points 1 and 2, take possession of the health claim copies and progress point 3, and take your dictation on point 4 – agreed, Telstra always has to be dealt with or one will loose ones self respect.
    Go out for a walk, woman, take that family of yousr by the hand and have a good time together in the last few days and let someone else be the ‘doer for a change.
    How excited you must be.
    Bon Voyage and don’t forget to send pictures – a chance for us to go somewhere really new.

    • I wish it was that easy. Unfortunately, no one can understand what Mr Husband says on the phone. He has a strong Italian accent and no matter how hard he tries, it always ends up with him passing the phone to me. So we’ve given up. In truth, he finds it slightly degrading that I have to do things, but he finds it even more degrading the people speak to him as if he is a child, when they cannot understand him.
      And honestly, his accent is not so bad. It’s as if a wall goes down as soon as he opens his mouth.
      BUT I will be walking on the beach tomorrow. I am writing a post about it in a tick 😉

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