Dancin' on the floor / Feelin' the slow groove

I just got back from the hospital. And what a manic day it has been. After waking up late, thanks to my ever-so unreliable Nokia, I dashed to the Freemason, with the minutes ticking down to my mother's operation. Sprinting down the road and into the hospital, I was greeted by my sister and father, sitting in the waiting area. I'd missed her. And as I was fired with questions as to what we would have for breakfast and stupid things much to the same, all I wanted to do was cry. I was upset, because the mother that had always been there for me when I needed her in times of sickness, I had let down. We all knew how nervous she'd been in the time leading up to this moment, and I remember how happy she was when she had seen me after her last operation. All I wanted was to make her calm and realise that I was there for her. But I didn't get the chance. I wasn't there.

After a brief and somewhat rushed breakfast at McDonald's, I headed home (nautious stomach et al) for a sooky self-loathing moment on my bed, which entailed reflections on why I am so unreliable, and a whingy phone conversation to Bradley (sorry about that, love). All that I had to do today hit me like a tone of bricks. I've been so drained lately, and after the past few days, the only thing I've thought to be manageable is sleep and... sleep. But shit happens, so you've just got to get on with it.

I met Dad at the hospital upon Mum's return from recovery. She looked weak and in pain. The frown lines she had worked with Shiseido so strenuously to conceal, were showing. Nurse Betty (no joke, Irish and hysterical) was great, although at times a bit distracted, which annoyed me. Not so much because my mother was receiving sub-standard treatment, but because I could see my Mum (being a nurse) analysing the way Betty worked, and getting annoyed, which made her stressed and more irritated. But what can you do....

After a few hours there, I went over to Chalks' place to meet the steam cleaner. Idiot. Don't ask. I wasn't really in the mood to be there, my morning had been crazy, and my afternoon was surely to be draining. Thankfully, a redeeming event was the hot hot hot group of firemen that pulled up across Victoria St. for no apparent reason, just as I sat out on the balcony. Revitalised, I rearranged the furniture, cleaned the place spotless, scrubbed the Jif residue off the floor, Exit Moulded the bathroom to the point where I thought I would collapse from asphyxiation, and returned to the keys to the real estate agent. Bye Bye Bouverie. We better get the full bond back fuckin (except for the damage cost for the hole in the wall behind the bedroom door that Chalks caused).

After grabbing some McDonald's, it was back to the Freemason's for me. I just sat with Mum, pretty much in silence, ate and read trash mags. She started to feel a little ill after she received Panadol, and I helped her sit up. And she was sick. I can't stand to see her in pain, and what kills me, is that there are weeks more of intense pain and discomfort that she needs to go through. Afterwards, I tried to do the crosswords, but in my scattered state, it wasn't helping me at all. I started getting headspins at one point and lay my head on the side of the bed. Mum could tell I was tired, and she gently pushed the cushion towards me. So there I was, slumped over a chair with my head by my mother. Tear.

And so here I am now at home, sitting here listening to janet. The album of sex. Liberation. Femininity. Hot. Waiting for Imma to arrive. I'm unsure as to how I want this evening to pan out. I could pass out on my bed right now, and only arise for a bite to eat and some phone chats to Brad, or I could be social, sit downstairs, endulge in food, watch Will & Grace all indispersed with some phone chats to Brad. God I miss him.


PunkOnAir : Janet Jackson - Any Time, Any Place.