The week that wasn't

This week has been a total write-off.

Last Saturday we went to Grandma’s for dinner to see her for mother’s day. My two uncles, Luke and Zoe (my godson, aged 5, and my beautiful cousin, aged 2) were there playing. When we arrived and I walked into the lounge room, Zoe said “It’s Daniel!” and came running towards me. I knelt down and she put her arms around me and gave me the biggest hug I’ve ever had. It was nice. Luke was never a huggy child, so I missed out on that when he was younger (and I continue to miss out on it now that he is older). We sat around chatting, and I asked Zoe’s dad if she brought Milo, her favourite teddy bear, so that I could measure him because I wanted to make a little jackety-type thing for him. He fetched Milo and a measuring tape for me and, with the help of my Dad, proceeded to take measurements. Zoe was thoroughly unimpressed. She started crying and trying to grab Milo from her father, so it took the three of us twice as long to measure him and fend her off. The poor little thing was beside herself by the time she was given Milo, who she promptly hid somewhere in the dining room away from meddlesome hands.

We stayed for dinner and watched the movie Red Eye. It was nice to spend time with Grandma, something I haven’t been able to do for months. I had a migraine brewing, so I wasn’t feeling the best, but there’s something about being that house that made me feel very comfortable and young.

On Sunday, Mother’s Day, Sister returned home to visit and we all sat down to a yummy roast turkey dinner. I also made a new batch of Honeycomb (this one worked perfectly aside from a slight burnt taste that permeated it).

Sister stayed all day Monday too, alone with me as my parents were at work. I had decided earlier in the week that this visit may be the one in which I would implement part two of The Plan. If she made a negative comment about gays or about homosexuality in general (and experience tells me that the likelihood of this was high) I would ask her “why do you harbour such ill-will towards homosexuals?” and go from there, probably asking “do you even know any?” (admittedly, on Sunday night she made a comment but I was not prepared to get into it while sitting on the front veranda at 11pm in my jammies). After a considerable amount of psyching up, no mention was made on her part, rather ironically, to The Awkward Subject on Monday. However if it were I wouldn’t have said anything anyway because I had a small migraine and really wasn’t in the mood for gut-wrenching unpleasantness on top of the mind-numbing unpleasantness.

Tuesday was just a pain in the arse. My uni schedule dictated two lectures and a linguistics class. I looked up what the class would cover in the outline and decided that it was stuff I already knew so decided to give it a miss. I did, however, take some work with me to do in the hour of the class while sitting outside Manning in the sun. I arrived at uni at 9am for my sociology lecture. After sitting in the auditorium for 10 minutes it became bleakly apparent that the lecturer was not going to be joining us. We wandered over to Manning and hung out until 10, when Nicki and Laura had class. I did the work thing and was rejoined at 11 by the girls for our usual lunch date. At midday I walked over to the linguistics lecture. After 10 minutes it again became bleakly apparent that no lecturer was coming. It dawned on those present that neither half the group nor either of the other two teachers had turned up. I got up from my seat and checked my email on the computer in the theatre, which displayed everything I did to the other students on the projector screen. Sure enough, there was an email from the lecturer cancelling the lecture due to his having the flu. I grumbled at length and walked back to Manning to wait for Nicki and Laura, ready to go home. In the end, I spent just under four hours at Manning and zero time actually learning anything.

On Wednesday, I wasn’t in the mood. I felt like shit and was a little depressed. I stayed home to wallow in my own crapulence.

Thursday was the only productive day this week. The sociology lecturer turned up as I did (which was cutting it quite fine) and I enjoyed an interesting lecture, the delight at which was diminished slightly by the discovery that I had lost the MP3 player the university’s disability services had lent me to record lectures (presumably I left it in the lecture hall of the linguistics lecture-that-wasn't).

After the lecture I caught the bus to the city to buy some new knitting needles and go to a chemist. It is one of the many curiosities of this great city of ours that the Haymarket area has at least five chemists on George St alone, yet the mid-city area around Pitt St Mall has but one (at least that was all I could spy on my mission). Furthermore, it was one that didn’t have what I wanted. I asked the “concierge” (a wanky and self-important title for an information desk clerk if ever I heard one) at Westfield Centrepoint where the nearest chemist was; he pointed me to Castlereagh St. I was soon at a loss as to why he sent me there, since I walked all the way down Castlereagh St to Market St and encountered none. I eventually found one at World Square, made my purchase and flopped on a bus back to uni. The irony that I had walked half the length of the city for pain killers was not lost on me.

I had a sociology class at midday, by far the most tedious class I have ever had the misfortune to be enrolled in (and which I usually skip), however I thought that since my marks aren’t going to be anything to boast about, I should probably not flirt with failure by having a poor attendance record too. I was in the neighbourhood anyway, I figured, so I should probably go.

Safe on the train, ready to go home, I got out the needles I had bought earlier that day and realised that both sets looked identical when they should have been two different sizes. I hopped another train to Martin Place and walked to Pitt St Mall (and, yes, I know that it isn’t the nearest station but I was in the mood for a nice Autumnal scenic walk through the beautiful city of ours, although I do admit I forgot how far the Mall is from Martin Place while planning this impromptu excursion) and exchanged them. Catching a train from St James, I arrived home an hour later than I had anticipated, but with a profound sense of achievement.

Today I woke up at 3pm, yesterday’s events having taken a lot out of me. To add injury to the insult of being robbed of half my day, I woke up with another migraine and spent the next two hours drifting in and out of consciousness with an ice-pack on my forehead. When my head had calmed down to a point where I could move around the house without feeling like puking, it was dark.

So there you have it folks, that was my week. Although it was full of wasted hours, personal tragedy, mental stress, a spinning head and a sprinkle of learning (on Thursday), I cannot help but feel it was a total write-off. On the up side, it would be difficult for next week to get worse. I probably should speak so soon, pride coming (as it does) before a fall, but I will deal with that next week.