Opening with the weather once again (how frightfully repetitive) because, besides being the ultimate ice-breaker (narwhal horns notwithstanding), it’s also one of main things that make Melbourne Melbourne. Melbourne exhibits a meteorological phenomena that belies belief (or begs or bludgeons). Melbourne weather seems to exist within that realm of things doing whatever they want; a grey area commonly referred to in the memeverse as a ‘no fucks given’ zone. The weather that governs the city is like a child with ADD, prone to distraction from the approved weather patterns (hail storms in summer) and rarely stays focussed on one type of weather for more than thirty seconds. You can walk out of a building in Melbourne and feel the wind nipping at the nape of your neck (ALLITERATION TOP SCORE) causing you shrug on your jacket/coat/jumper/hairy significant other, then after travelling a block down the street you find yourself sweating enough bullets to arm a small militant refugee contingent from the mountains of Mongolia.
My last post dealt with the gripes of the wind and the sky preparing itself for some serious RAIN. Now…a week on…and the air outside the apartment is eerily calm. I have the window open and the TV hasn’t been wrenched from its moorings. It’s nuclear holocaust still. Our street, which usually resembles a wind tunnel is barely registering a fart…for the second day running. I wait with bated breath though…because I know that by 8:30 the streetlights will be shaking and anything not bolted down will be wrecking havoc on the buses below.
I’m watching the buses now and the cars that weave angrily behind them, impatient. I’m currently witnessing an event of great magnitude: a traffic anomaly. A single broken line divides the road right up the middle, creating two mathematically pleasing lanes for traffic to not move in during the hours of 4:00pm and 6:30pm. However for some reason I can count three snakes of traffic shuffling up to the lights. I’m not sure how this is happening…but I know that it must be a Melbourne thing because if it were attempted anywhere else…you would die. A road shark would sense the extra ‘lane’ and burst from within the asphalt…devouring you in your environmentally friendly, hybrid cocoon. How embarrassing…you don’t even get to die in a good car…
I’m about to start on dinner actually. I’m a sexy, sexy housewife. Think January Jones from Season 1 of Mad Men…only I look better in a pinafore. I have to make extra. For the monster. It’s a new one now. We managed to lure the wardrobe dwelling abomination into the apartment across the hall so he could terrorise some Canadians (they seem to actually get on quite well…) and for a while there was a calmness that floated through the open window of 503 (you know because the wind isn’t trying to kill us at the moment). However the calm was shattered after the shower repairs revealed something sinister lurking within the plumbing. Now if you want to use the toilet without being ‘inspected’ by a jagged tentacle or have a shower without a large yellow eye peering up at you from the plughole, you have to drop a raw steak into the pipes…
We’ve decided to call him Dolores. Jazz music makes him irritable.
Anyways this has been a pleasant exercise in saying so little with so many words. I hope you have found this pointless because if you got anything out of this at all, I would be sincerely concerned for your sanity.
There’s a tentacle looping out of the tap. Better get cooking.