#notadildo

So, a couple of weekends ago there was this massive storm, and I had the best post ever about it. I was going to draw pictures and everything, maybe even break out the watercolours. Except nothing I drew could quite encompass the dramatics involved in breaking down* in the worst storm in Wellington in the past 20 years, and nothing could encompass just how menacing power lines down across the road are.

I think I had issues with drawing and writing this up because the drama mostly happened in my head, and in the car, and I’m not really great at drawing cars. I tried a version where I drew the car as the gherkin, but that came out looking unintentionally pornographic, like I rode a giant lumpy green dildo through a massive storm, and had to limbo it under a fallen tree in order to get somewhere warmer than my house to avoid hypothermia.

Just to clear any confusion up: I do not own a dildo with wheels. I own a Gherkin, which is a metaphor for a car, which is old, and green, and well-preserved. Like a pickle. #NOTADILDO.

So basically, two weeks ago there was a storm which was excellent blog material, because it was windy enough that there was probably a woman on a bicycle spinning around cackling about getting me, and my little dog too. I promptly lost my blog mojo, and crumpled under the incredible weight of reporting on the fact I survived four days without power, and cooked on a BBQ in the middle of winter, and then wimped out in the face of FREEZING COLD WEATHER, and drove to my dads place where I took a three-hour long hot bath, and cooked a pot of chicken soup big enough to feed a rugby team because: I do not like being cold. AT ALL.

Also I brought a new hat, because I could see my breath inside. It’s kind of a fashion statement, in that I can never wear it in public. So, like a BAD statement. That you never tell anyone about, and hope that there’s no photographic proof.

Other things I did during the crazy storm:

• Lit candles and crossed all my fingers and toes I wouldn’t have to break the news about the hairdye on the carpet to my landlords along with an “Oh, and I accidentally burnt down the living room, because it’s dark in there when there’s no power.”
• Avoided the mirror for three days because my shower needs a water pump to work so my hair was like WHOA, and I have this irrational fear of looking in the mirror in the dark, and seeing someone else looking back at me. And when I say irrational fear, I mean totally justified, because DUDES IT CAN TOTALLY HAPPEN. I’ve heard stories. And they end with words like “and then everyone died.”
• Upgraded to a metal torch, which works as both a source of light, bright enough to illuminate a suspicious sheep on the next ridgeline, and a weapon in the case of a zombie apocalypse. And it was on sale! 20% off Bitches!
• Spent multiple hours in the car charging my phone enough to post a quick “I’m alive” to facebook and text people who wanted to double-check I wasn’t trapped down a cliff, or under a fallen tree.

*When I say break down? I mean ran out of petrol, because I was playing chicken with my fuel light, and the fuel light won. Cocky know-it-all bastard.

** Don’t judge the spelling on my awesome post-it note drawings. I don’t do well without spell check. Also, you’re lucky I drew anything because I’ve been failing at the storm pictures for real.

Seven reasons why I’m totally loving living where I do right now.

Loving living in the country right now, here’s why:

On Sunday afternoons the crazy cat and I sit in the grass and contemplate the meaning of life… well… the cat does that, and I read a book, or draw, or nap.

My nearest neighbours are a row of tree stumps. They’re dead quiet.

My country garden is AMAZEBALLS with all the flowering right now. I’ve never had a real garden all of my own before.

The chickens seem to have toned down their assault on my gardens out the front. Mostly because I took my declaration of war quite seriously, and built a wall of stone, and surrounded it with lavender, which actually repells quite a few things.

Living in the country is awesome because I get to have my very own guard cat. He’s quite ferocious. Especially around ribbons, and dangly things.

My Pohutakawa brings all the bees to the yard… Which I’m actually cool with, because bees are not spiders.

And the final reason why the country is better than living in the city? My roof grows it’s won grass, which is charming in a sort of a gross way (because I have tank water, which is also collected off the roof.)

Basically the countryside in general is charming in a sort of a gross way.

Four things that were taking up brain-space last week. (So I drew them on post it notes to share with you!)

I ran into my Aunty online last week, and she thought it was weird that I work for a technology company – apparently she always thought I’d be off saving the whales when I grew up. To be fair, so did I. My favorite job ever was actually volunteering with the SPCA. If only they turned that into a paying, six-figure job.

Or my seven-year-old self wanted to ride horses for a living. Unfortunately I have yet to find a solid, well-paying career plan that revolves around being covered in horse hair and sweat for 90% of my waking hours.

I finished my rowing bootcamp a wee while ago, and unfortunately over the course of those lessons it became quite clear to me that rowing is not my hidden talent. Or my unhidden talent. Or even my partially transparent talent.

Basically I suck at rowing, and while I still contest that I did not manage to actually fall out of a boat (some would disagree – they’d be wrong) I did spend an awful lot of time wet with lagoon water, and freezing cold.

I ran out of hot water at the end of last week again, because I’m crap at planning my spending. I didn’t actually get around to replacing it until Friday night – when I drove for two hours around Lower Hutt trying to find a petrol station who would fill up my gas cylinder. I was told it was “way” cheaper than swapping, so wanted to test the theory. Two hours later I saved myself $1.23.

Anyway, aside from that massive waste of time and patience, I spent the latter half of the week learning how to shower with my new technique that involves getting as little of my body under the freezing cold spray as possible. By Friday I was really good at it… and also a little grimy.

I also set myself a goal of going to the gym at least once last week – even if it actually killed me. I achieved the goal – mostly through the lure of a hot shower. As a result I was reminded how much I used to like kickboxing classes (up until the instructor whips out the burpies anyway.) I’m going again this week!

I totally missed the bit where you kick big soft padded bags as hard as you can with no stupid technique to worry about.

Arachnophobes? This isn’t the post for you.

So this morning I wander into my bathroom and flick on the light, and see the shadow of something moving against the wall. I ignore it, because the window was open, and I figured it was just wind. Then I turn on the shower, and oh holy god. THIS is darting around in the corner of my bathroom:

Naturally I responded with a massive leap back to the safety of the lounge area – which later made me wonder why the heck I have so much trouble with flying kicks. I mean, it turns out I can quite comfortably jump backwards 2.5 metres, surely going forward and doing a kick at the same time would be simple, right?

Shannon: Oh god. Alright Batz time to earn your keep.

Batz:…

Shannon: Well go on. It’s moving around and being all skittery. You love hunting. You spend hours chasing moths, and slaters, and mosquitos.

Batz:…

Shannon: Well someone’s going to have to turn the shower off at least. I’m on tank water.

Batz:…

Yeah. So the cat wasn’t much help. It turns out living alone means taking care of your own spiders. It took me quarter of an hour but I managed to drum up the girl-balls to trap it. (I didn’t leave the shower running that whole time. I’m not stupid.)

Shannon: So I’ve decided to trap it under a glass.

Batz:…

Shannon: It’s not exactly a decisive course of action, but at this point I think we need to withdraw and strategize for a more permanent solution.

Batz:…

Shannon: this partnership isn’t really fulfilling my needs right now Batz, just so you know.

Batz: Meerow?

Yeah. So without the help of the cat, I managed to trap the thing. And now it’s sitting on my kitchen counter at home. I don’t know whether to hope it’s magically disappeared by the time I get home after TKD tonight, or to hope it’s still there.

In other news buying spider repellent has moved right up at the top of my list. Although for something this big, I’m not sure if spider repellent will do the job. Perhaps a security system to stop home invasion? I know one thing for damn sure: I’m going to stop sleeping with the windows open above my bed.

Shudder.

Dramatic? Me? No. Well. Maybe a little. But it’s a REALLY bad cold.

So I don’t want anyone to say that I’m a hypochondriac or anything… And I definitely don’t mean to alarm anyone (Ok. I do.) But I’m 99% certain that I’m turning into a zombie.

Naturally I wouldn’t make the claim if I couldn’t back it up so here’s my evidence:

1. I speak in grunts and groans now. Because words require brain power, and… uhhhhhhhh

2. My nose has been dripping like a tap since yesterday afternoon, and it could be any number of things, but lets all agree that it’s my youth and vitality. Dripping out of me one disgusting tissue-full at a time.

3. My neck is stiff, and so is my everything else. I walked to the chemist before, and at some point my legs stopped functioning, so I had to drag myself there on my hands and knees, using my forehead, because it was the only bit of my body that I could move without making a pitiful groaning sound.

4. I no longer hunger for real food. All I want is ginger beer  and juice. And carbs. Also M&M’s, and as we all know, that’s just the first step in a long spiral towards bbbbbrrrrrrrraaaaaaaiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnsssss

5. I smell like the undead. Or at least I’m pretty sure I do, my nose isn’t exactly functioning right now, but I’ve been having sweaty hot and cold flushes all night, and I haven’t been awake enough to shower without falling asleep and accidentally drowning myself.

6. The chemist says I just have a cold, but we all know they lie in order to sell $32 packets of Cold medication.

In other news: $32.00?!!! WTF? It’s only four days worth. Who cares that It has the latest and greatest magical fairy dust for numbing my headache. It’s still not even really working. I don’t feel any better. AND she made me buy a nasal spray. Now there’s a sexy concept. No wonder I feel like I have the plague.

the only good thing to come out of this is that my hand-eye coordination is getting better. I manage to land my tissues on my tissue pile 90% of the time now. Mostly because the tissue pile covers roughly 30% of my new room. Oh my god are we using math? I must have a fever. This is how I know it’s the end.

 

Brrrraaaiiinnnss…