Every time I have a busy day I wake up with a cricked neck, aching teeth and a brewing migraine?
The first task of today is to scout around for rubbish (no hard feat, let's be honest) for the local newspaper photographer to arrange artfully around my feet as I pose incognito as the 'Typical Flemington Litter Bug.'
I feel like doing this (all that bending with tongs over reeking Red Rooster boxes, cigarette butts and half-filled beer bottles with the yeasty smell turning into parmesan vomit-pong in the festering humidity) about as much as I'd enjoy having my head flipped open and brains blended with a Bamix.
Still, as I sit here gingerly (the keyboard is so loud) typing this in my pyjamas; having just scared the courier answering the door in my aqua Crocs and stained long white-tshirt, I realise that I'm in a whingey frame of mind and have a few other 'How come....?' ponderings I'd like answered.
Well, maybe not answered today but sometime soon. Today I'd be happy with a partly-functioning head and an ability to bend over without clutching around madly for a handhold as I try to repress the stars dancing in front of my eyes and swallow the dry heaves back down.
The seventh is to attend the information session at our local high school that gets overlooked by ridiculously snobby parents who don't want to send their kids to an educational facility literally metres from their door because it happens to host some Somalian refugees and housing commission kids but instead pack their kids onto two trains and trams in order to attend a school on the other side of the city whose uniform costs alone could fund the annual expenditure of the local school's library book budget......