the waterboy

Our dog swims. No great surprise, but very cool to see the little fella paddling in Middle Harbour on Sunday afternoon. He needed little encouragement - very little actually. I threw a small stick in the water. At one point he was joined by two more, older, paddling cocker spaniels. No camera when needed. Sal had driven to Tunks Park to take Rumpole for a walk and a swim and I ran through the reserve - first time in what seems like ages - to meet them for a family outing. Sunday ended with a massive electical storm. Knackered, I did not climb out of bed to see it but was still impressed with the noise and the light-up-the-room flashes coming from outside. All very Hollywood aliens-landing-in-the-garden-stroke-apocalyptic-end-of-days stuff, courtesy of nature. Unlike large parts of Sydney, I slept through pretty much all of it. Wish I hadn't, but with the trend towards uber humidity I am sure we'll have another cracker before too long.

And so to Monday, first day of my last week with Westpac. Not a lot to report; before work Rumpole came into the house and pissed on the floor of the second bedroom. I picked him up and ran him outside and ten minutes later he came back in and while I wasn't looking pissed over the floor in the second bedroom. The testosterone is starting to pump in the lad, something that will stop on Friday, if you get my drift. On the way to work I pulled off a spectacular almost-fall from my bike. Skidded on a grate, wobbled, bounced, lost footing, recovered, continued. Surprised I stayed aboard, probably wouldn't have survived if I had better brakes. Work was work and the trip home was via Chatswood to sign a finance agreement for the sofa we already have; you'd have thouhgt they'd have checked whether Sal could pay fr it before they delivered it, but apparently not. Note to self; don't ride along the Pacific Highway. The road is a shocker; fast cars and buses with skinny lanes. At least I missed the rain, which started when I got home.

I waited out the rain and then did my Chatswood-loop run. Did not feel 100% and when I got home my throat decided to sore up, something that continued through the night to this morning when I awoke feeling like shit. suspect my sore throat is self-inflicted. Towards the end of Sunday's dive my out-of-practice scuba ears were feeling the pressure. I reckon I've pushed some ear-gunk towards my throat, my throat has taken offence and reacted. Phlegm, high temp and shivering, throat feeling like it's been assaulted with red-hot sandpaper. Lovely. Been here before. Touch-and-go whether I'd drag my sorry arse into work, a decision made financially - contractors get paid when they work. On the asprin and salt-water gargle, early to bed tonight and I'll see if I can beat it fast. Might be a blessing in disguise as I think a rest from exercise for a few days will recharge the batteries for a final push towards April 22nd.

Feling shitty I bussed it to work. I left 10 minutes later than my usual bus-to-work time, giving the authorities time to find a body on rail lines in Chatswood. So trains stopped, buses replaced them and were fuller than usual as they filled with commuters evicted in Chatswood, just upstream of us in Willoughby. Long queues for the express service so I got the slow one and got a seat; I was already running a bit late so a bit later still was no biggie. Had I not been late I might not have seen Monique Wright outside of the Channel 7 studio in Martin Place. To be sure the Sunrise weather presenter is a fine filly, but does she look a little too orange? Maybe overdoing the tan in a can?

At lunch I sat outside at a cafe on Macquarie Street. An eye-catching female bum came into view over top of my book. My eye caught I glanced up, eyes got no higher than the cigarette in her hand, at which point they returned to my book. Cigarette; instant ugly.

I have done hardly any work so far today. I don't anticipate doing much more. Sooooo bored.