This was not what I had envisaged when we moved into the Residence. Forty-five square metres can become extraordinarily filthy in a very short time, given this little unit is home to ourselves, the Three Stooges, Madame Cat and the Pirate Parrot. We also have a tiny "alfresco" outside the wet area, currently bordered by about twenty-five pots of various shapes and sizes. This "patio" was created with the help of our local concrete merchant. On any day he had a bit of nuisance value concrete left over, he would cheerfully dump it outside the Residence's back door. Hence we now have a concrete space to sit and admire the universe, under the shade of the tree and behind the privacy of the Great Wall of China.
Our cunning stacking of the pallets of bricks will form the lion's share of our Stalag 13's fence to keep the Beagle confined to barracks whilst Station Cottage is being constructed on the back block. She is resigned to being tied up but is still able to cause havoc if she so chooses. For example, Michael accidentally left our "dog pooh bucket" within the reach of the Beagle on her leash. I've leave the rest to your imagination...
This last week was supposed to ordered, steady and controlled. We were already going to Perth on Monday for Michael's check-up with Doctor Daram and we planned to drop in on Lucky.
Tuesday night I was going to motor down to the Big Smoke for a meeting of the Swan Friendship Club - an organisation that is crawling its way back, trying to provide recreation, training and paid employment to people with disabilities. My lad Alex was privileged to work at their cafe until last May. Needless to say, no enlightened employer has offered him a job in the last eight months. So this is a cause very close to my heart.
Wednesday I was going to come home after sleeping at Lucky's and carry on smugly and calmly with more organisation in the Gallery at a quietly efficient rate. And that was the plan...
Monday was going well until Sandra rang to inform us Lucky was in hospital. So we added a trip to the Midland Hospital in the afternoon. Lucky was retaining fluid around his lungs, along with a couple of dicky heart valves. Not that uncommon at ninety. We had Vanessa with us, so we played musical visitors as we weren't all permitted to be in the Emergency cubicle at the same time.
Once the quacks had made the decision Lucky was going to be admitted, we left, dropping Vanessa at the station and arriving home at dusk. Monday had turned into a full day.
Tuesday morning was catching up in the Residence. I arranged with Sandra to sleep over in the family home so I didn't have to drive home. I whizzed in to see Lucky on my way. He was certainly perkier and was able to walk with me to the exit of the ward. The meeting of the Swan Friendship Club fired me up, filling me with ideas and enthusiasm. Which meant my mind was working overtime and I didn't sleep well. I finally drifted off to the sound of the watering starting automatically. About three o'clock in the morning.
Wednesday was a scorcher. I returned to Midland for a haircut and to see Lucky once more. Then I was off to Northam. Throughout the blast furnace of the day, I ticked off my tasks. Check to see Choices carpet centre still had our carpet we ordered in 2013. Done. Dropped into Greg Purslowe, our trusty insurance broker, to insure our contents. HBF couldn't cope with the concept we were living at the rear of a commercial building and storing domestic contents. Greg spoke to CGU and the problem went away. Whilst he was dealing with that, I was acting as his secretary. A new digital phone system was causing mayhem, ringing continuously. Telstra was none the wiser about a solution to this issue. So I was picking up and putting down phones whilst Greg was dealing with more important matters. Done.
A final stop in Northam was to check out Comfort Style Furniture. I found the TV unit of my dreams. Happy dance.
Wednesday night I was beyond tired. I fell into bed. Michael was having a high old time, the TV blaring, he was well lubricated with vino and came to bed, only to annoy me for hours and launch Madame Cat into orbit. Twice.
Thursday was supposed to be smooth sailing. I resolved to begin updating accounts to our new monetary centre, CUA. I innocently assumed that changing all my direct debits and credits would be plain sailing. Wrong. And when I tried to change my address and account details and update our assets (of lack of them) on the MyGov website, an almost audible crash occurred. Shortly afterwards, I was rung, unsolicited, by a Centrelink operative, who proceeded to have a meltdown of sorts when I explained what I had been trying to do. Not possible on the website! (Why not?) Not possible with him on the phone! Too complicated (Why?).
So yesterday, I found myself travelling to Centrelink in Northam. On the 13th day of January and a Friday. Oh goody.
I managed to change our address, account details and show the paper trail that had followed the sale of Brooking Street. We also required an exemption whilst we are building the house so our pension remains untouched. That was started. I staggered out with homework. It appeared they had no knowledge of the disposal of our rental property back in 2014 or Michael's sale of his half share of the Kookynie block (literally beyond the black stump) to his son. Plus we had to fill out a separate real estate declaration for our block on which we are about to build our new house. Not to mention, our temporary accommodation at the back of a commercial building was definitely not a common occurrence.
However, I must throw bouquets to the staff at the Centrelink office in Northam. They work tirelessly and compassionately with a hopelessly unwieldy set of policies, designed to stymie the most intelligent of us all. And although I was completely spent when I arrived home yesterday, I was not disheartened by the thought of having to make a return trip there on Monday. They are truly there to help, unlike the distant pollies who created this disaster.
This afternoon, my age has decreased. The wonderful Don spent an hour and a half performing Bowen Therapy on my battered and aching body. I actually rebounded. I have cancelled bowls this evening but I am going to enjoy a gentle walk with my beloved husband and the canine fatheads.
Thank God this week is over. Roll on next week.
Lucky on his 90th birthday.
Alex (in glasses) at the Swan Friendship Cafe.
My reaction to the phone call from Centrelink.
What the male idiot from Centrelink offered me.
Centrelink opening hours.
And the techniques that gave me such relief this afternoon.
No comments:
Post a Comment