...lo.

...lo.

...lo.

Well, that's a decent echo. Guess that means the walls are still standing, which now that I think of it is a damn sight better than our plumbing managed to do recently. And the plumber who came to fix our poo pipes (by that I mean our actual plumbing, NOT OUR ANUSES) found that what we thought would be a $99 job - heee, I said 'job' - was actually going to cost us $OH U CAN'T AFFORD ME, HONEY. Which is my translation for $8000.

That's right, $8000 for the right to not be standing in a cesspool of our own accumulated turds. Which, in fairness, we were willing to pay because let's face it, if a light goes, OK, you can live without it. You might even buy a chandelier of the olde worlde style with actual candles and actual flames and pretend to be French aristocrats or really fancy arsonists. Or French arsonists. That's the same as a regular arsonist except once you've finished razing the bushland in northwestern New South Wales you get to eat a cr�pe. In the nude*. It gets filmed and submitted to the Cannes film festival as an art piece where it is proclaimed a minor indie success. You celebrate by burning down Tasmania.

But when the toilet backs up, your only alternative - as far as I can see - is essentially a goldfish scoop, but for poo. A goldfish scoop for poo. FOR POO.

This all happened right before my birthday, by the way. The plumber had awful taste in music so my only real birthday wish was for him to listen to a better radio station. He didn't know it was my birthday but on that day, by some divine providence, he DID briefly listen to a better station. But then he forgot to finish his job so raw sewerage ended up under our bedroom.

Probably the first time I've received my own shit for my birthday.

* Next time you're not wearing any clothes, use my fun translation chart below to determine which kind of unclad you are!

Martina's funtime pantslessness conversion scale!
Starkers = I'm a cricket-ground streaker!
Naked = I'm ready for sexy times!
Exposed = I'm a deviant outside a primary school!
Nude = ZIS IS ART. (May still involve one or more of the activities listed above.)

We have a lodger staying with us at the moment. She's been here for nearly a year now. Turned up a month early without notifying us, expects us to clean up after her, has no sense of personal space and for a while there actually made it hard for us to even sleep.

I'm completely in love with her.

I made her this to give her on her first birthday this weekend:

... but when I showed it to her the other day, she responded by first ignoring it, then sitting on it and reaching for my extensive collection of choking hazards and pointed objects. You know, it's funny. Since becoming a parent I've learnt a lot about life. I made a list.

1. Never make lists about the smug wisdom you've gained from becoming a parent. Jesus, did your youth teach you nothing?
NO-ONE CARES.

Love you long time!