Jamie walked into the house and found me and Erin slumped in the living area.

“How’s it going, team?” he asked, with the cheerfulness of someone who has just had a great workout at the gym.

“Mission failed,” I announced. Erin and I, too, had visited the gym. Erin was up in Shepparton until the end of September. I had taken Erin to the gym this evening, hoping to get her on the ‘No worries, no commitments’ deal Jamie and I were on. If anyone could do this, it was me, champion negotiator, super mediator.

“Failed?” Jamie said, surprised.

“Yeah,” said Erin. “The reception lady said that deal was only for people who did the ‘$40 for 40 days’ special. She said I could get a 12 visit pass. It costs $116!” Jamie and I were paying $51 per month.

“We didn’t even take it lying down,” I added glumly. “I asked her if there was anything she could do. ‘We’re only here for a month,’ I told her. ‘It’s join or not join.’ ”

“What did she say?” Jamie asked.

“She said that she couldn’t do anything. The prices are set by the council and she’ll get in trouble if they see she’s changed the prices,” Erin said. “I guess she can’t help it. It’s not her fault. Oh, well. I’ll just jog around the lake or something.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame…” Jamie said absently. “Maybe I’ll try talking to Mel when we next see her.” Mel was a friendly receptionist that Jamie and I sometimes chatted to in the evenings.

The following night, I had just finished washing the dishes and had wandered to the living room to see what was on TV. The front door opened.

“Hi guys.” Jamie was back from his evening gym workout.

“How’d it go?”

“Yeah, okay,” Jamie looked vaguely dissatisfied. “I’m keeping off the legs a little. They’re still feeling a bit tight.” He peered around to see what TV show was on.

“Did you get to talk to Mel?” I said idly.

He brightened. “Girls, our troubles are over.”

Erin sat up “I can join?”

“Here are your free gym passes for the next week…” Jamie slapped down four or five bright blue squares of paper. “…and Erin can take over Joan’s gym membership when Joan leaves after next week.”

We gaped at him.

“And, if we show up on the right night, you won’t even need to pay the transfer fee!”

Erin and I started laughing. “What?! How — ?”

“Cheerio,” Jamie said as he bounced out of the room.

“There’s a giant spider,” I called as I was pulling the bathroom door shut behind me. “Oh!” I cried.

“What’s wrong?” came Erin’s voice from around the corner. “Did the spider jump up?”

“No,” I said, puzzled. “I just broke the doorknob…and I’m bleeding.” I examined the doorknob. It was made of some sort of ceramic and had sheared off at the neck.

Jamie came around. “You are bleeding! Are you okay?”

“There’s a bit of blood but it’s a small cut. Look at this!” I handed the snapped doorknob to him. “How weird is that?”

“Yeah, that is a bit strange!” Jamie put his finger on the stump of the doorknob left on the door. I kept my eye on the spider less than a metre away.

“God! It’s cut me too!” Jamie exclaimed. He showed me the thin red lines of blood on his index finger and thumb. “That’s a bloody razor blade! I barely touched it.”

“We’d better fix it up so no one else gets cut.”

For a while, Jamie and I debated about the best method for removing the stump or sealing the door. In the mean time, Erin had gone into the bathroom, come out and wrapped a face towel around the stump.

“How’s that?” she asked.

Jamie and I stopped in surprise.

“Yeah.” Jamie nodded appreciatively. “That’ll do it.”

We all stood there marvelling at her handiwork.

I live in a nice neighbourhood. The houses are big and gardens are tidy. However, if you visit now, it’s starting to look like a ghetto. There’s rubbish on all the lawns: old furniture, dead computers, carpets and cardboard boxes. You can feel it in the air — it’s Hard Rubbish Day!

The first piles of junk started appearing about two weeks ago. It began with just one or two items.

“What’s going on?” mum and dad asked. “Is Hard Rubbish Day coming? How come we didn’t get a notice about it?”

In the next week, piles of junk appeared in front of more houses.

“Do they know something we don’t know?” We were bewildered. Finally, we caved into social pressure and assembled our own pile in front of the house. Our pile has big branches, an old toilet and a broken cupboard.

You’ve got to keep up with the Joneses.

I was sitting in the car at an intersection. There was a group of eight young people mucking around at the corner. One guy had a girl by the waist and swung her around. Some were chasing each other around, while others chatted.

They wore normal teenage clothing — jeans, t-shirts, jumpers — but it struck me they were all wearing the same shade of grey. It might have been a coincidence, that the eight of them were wearing white, denim blue, black and that grey. But there were no other colours.

Then I saw one of them bouncing a big yoga ball. It was the same shade of grey too.

This email was making the rounds at work. The engineers and scientists laughed and laughed. We can relate to the stupidity and frustration.

Jamie and I woke up early to go to the gym.

Then we went to work for my 9 AM phone interview. Forty-five minutes later, the interview finished and we rushed to the car. We had a lunch time appointement two hours away at Cairn Curran. Jamie drove quite fast.

While Jamie interviewed the boss at Cairn Curran, I had two Peters show me around. I was there to audit the site’s environmental compliance. I took photos with my big camera.

We were very late by the time we wrapped up. We grabbed lunch at another country bakery (the sixth one I’ve visited) and made our way on the windy road to Eppalock. It took less than an hour. Jamie really is a good driver.

At Eppalock, I did another site inspection. Jamie talked to another guy.

Then it was time for the two hour trip back to Melbourne. We skipped the Heathcote Bakery (been there, done that) because we were running late. Again. Jamie is rarely able to get to his Thursday footy training on time.

I dropped Jamie off and drove further along to get home. Mum had a delicious hot meal for me. I did homework. Now I’m blogging. Why am I blogging? Blogging is my friend.

I’m tired and there’s lots of homework to do. I’ve got one month to go. Oh my God. That’s so soon. Damn, I need to finish these assignments.

Sorry. Tired.

Yesterday, Damjan was introduced to the durian, a shy tropical fruit that defends itself from predators with its spikes and its fragrance.

Regarding spikes, I offered Damjan use of my steel-capped boots. Industrial-strength protective footwear is recommended to those who frequently handle durian and jackfruit, like greengrocers.

Regarding its fragrance, Wikipedia has some graphic descriptions. The fine city of Singapore has banned durians on its public transport. I was on the Paris Metro once and smelled a durian-like smell. People around me were complaining about the odour. I didn’t mind it so much because it made me think of tropical fruit.

As for its flavour? Mum and dad love it. Many people are addicted. Our first time taster, Damjan, says that there is a coffee aftertaste.

He said, “The flavour’s really complex. I think it’s an acquired taste.”

I asked, “Do you want to acquire it?”

He said, “Sure!”

Damjan likes food.

…is another person’s fantasy.

Wikinews – Man falls into 70 gallons of chocolate

I was really looking forward to filling in a form for the five-yearly Australian census. You have no idea how much I love forms.

I was in Shepparton on August 8. Jamie, Erin and I were going to have a census party. We were a household.

The form never showed up in our letterbox. It wasn’t even under the doormat. Perhaps it was because we live in a serviced apartment. Yet, when our hosts dropped by for a chat the next day, they told us that guests staying in the other apartments were given forms.

I was crushed.

I particpated in a telephone survey this morning but even that couldn’t ameliorate the pain of losing my census.