Status: Surprisingly exhausted
Having formally kicked off this task on Saturday, Dana was treated to a walk along the Broadwater on Sunday. Worries me that the dog was still bounding around at the end of the day, while I was in bed just after 9pm. Put that down to two weeks of this, though. Honest. I'm not that unfit.
Status: What's the rush? I still have 973 days
Just to clarify, this means to eat as a vegetarian; not to physically eat a vegetarian, which would mean the opposite thing entirely.
Status: In limbo
Glad that's over.
Anyway, I've just applied for a new, temporary fixed-term position with the Queensland Government Department of Communities, which sounds right up my alley. Plus, the money's good and the timing for my proposed Canada departure date is superb. So all of you cross all of your fingers and toes for me until I find out if I got the job. Arthritis is no excuse.*
(Just one last thing about my work at 7-Eleven. I've discovered that people who go about their business at night - or in the wee small hours of the morning - are characteristically exuberant. I'm not talking about the stoned male teenagers who stagger in to flick through the adult magazines before realising they've lost their shirts during the course of the evening; instead, I mean the shift workers, the builders, the joggers and the delivery men. It's weird, but I feel there's an explanation. It's the grown-up version of the childhood fantasy of being locked in a department store overnight. While the rest of the world is essentially out of the picture, tucked up in bed and oblivious to anything or anyone, us professional night owls are merrily passing the hours without the borders or burdens that modern-day society places upon us. No traffic jams, no bustling crowds, no-one to tell me I can't refill my Slurpee cup. And when the sun rises, we scurry away to our homes while the day drones trudge about, only to re-emerge when it's safe to come out and play again. Actually, scrap all that - it may have been a better explanation that the world is full of happy vampires.)
* It may, however, be a consequence of long-term digit-crossing. I accept no responsibility for any injury sustained while willing me this job.
Status: In progress... NOW!
Okay, thanks to the graveyard shifts of terror at 7-Helleven, which led to me working 27 hours per day, this was simply impossible over the past month. Now that those days nights are mercifully behind me, I can get stuck into this important little task.
I know walking Dana mightn't seem like a particularly character-building job, but if you knew how little exercise I actually do, you'd be encouraging me like there's no tomorrow. Consider this the closest thing my list will have to an item that reads "Join a gym".
Unless I'm desperate for 101 items.
Really desperate.
Status: Square one
There are some criteria one ought to be wary of when accepting a job. For your future reference, and mine, I have listed these below:
Status: Well and truly complete
I know I mailed these almost three weeks ago, but the refreshingly efficient Canadian government have kindly granted me permission to work in their country.
Having successfully weaselled my way into the Australian and British governments, it now just seems to be a matter of time before my plans for world domination continue.
Wait, I've said too much.
Status: Technically complete, but I don't count it
In order to complete #4 on this list, I've taken a second job at, er, 7-Eleven. I've just come off a 12-hour overnight shift (immediately following a four-hour stint at Job A) and my legs are killing me... Still, I kind of enjoyed it once the people started coming in on their way to work. There's something interesting about watching everyone at the very start of their day- the jogger, the builder, the security guard, the bloke who madly exclaimed to me that milk is only $2.55 at his local corner store.
Oh, the characters...
I need sleep.
Status: 37 pins short
I love those sports that require little effort. Pool? Sign me up! Mini-golf? Hand me my putter! Darts? Er, okay! Bowling requires arguably the most effort of any of those sports (that said, chalking a pool cue can be quite straining on the wrist), but it's so gosh-darn fun - and social!
Anyhoo, in light of my record of 168 pins* set with Jackie in Canada (which only occurred so that my reassurances that I was a lousy bowler could be unfairly disproved), and my regular Thursday night excursions to Strike with Bodie, Brady and Neil, I've set this task to recreate that momentous fluke of a game.
Sadly, this Thursday was not the night. A few early clunkers set me on the wrong track, but a couple of decent last frames set me up for a score of 123 (one pin more than last time, if I recall correctly). Neil, once again, gave us a good walloping, while Bodie (who bowls like a sleepy kitten) managed a very respectable 98. Brady managed to get drunk again (er, and come fourth!), while special guest ball-chucker Dan also, um, knocked down some pins. Good times!
* I think that's right. Jackie, did you still have the scorecard of the game? I left it on your desk! You wouldn't throw out a tangible memory, would you?
Status: Complete, but mushy (you have been warned)
This task is to rectify a very unfortunate oversight that occurred during my recounting of the Great Baggage Tag Heist Of 2006 - the omission of the part that one very special person played in that particular event, and the course of my life ever since.
It began with her throwaway insult towards an entire nation and its people on that summery London night last year, but has since blossomed into something much, much more. Not long after, I texted her from Spain - think of the international roaming costs; it must have been special! - begging her to remain in the UK and promising to correct the slightly sub-par time she'd been having in England thus far.
We spent the next few blissful months hanging out in London's various parks, making fun of children dropping their ice-creams - seemingly in spite of the fact I had a job to go to - before, at her suggestion, we went to Amsterdam together (site of said heist).
Unfortunately, it was with great sadness that our time in London had to come to an end - she had to return to Canada.
Yet we kept it touch as the months went by, despite the Atlantic, and our friendship became something more - which lead me all the way across that ocean two months ago, for a simply amazing two and a half weeks together. Ever since, I've been head over heels for one of the most incredible people I've ever met.
Happy three months, Jackie!
Status: Nauseatingly in progress
A task so boring, it will no doubt transform me into an appallingly dull fellow, unimaginative, timid, lacking in initiative, spineless, easily dominated, no sense of humour, tedious company and irrepressibly drab and awful.
Yes, 20 soul-destroying pages of employment details, agent authorisation forms, allowances and liabilities, property details, relevancies of domicile (whatever the deuce that means), and signatures, signatures, signatures!
But it potentially holds big bucks for me, so I'll persevere. That said, because my hopes are up, I'm guessing I'll receive no more than $20 (minus 18 percent commission*, of course).
Shall we start a tab?
* Now in 50% finer print
This Far Side has no relevancy; just had to throw it in to liven up what was an equally boring post.
