Love hurts

I thought I was heading back to the vet yesterday because Bilbo wouldn’t stop shaking. I was worried he was in pain, but I’m pretty sure it was just anxiety over the builders’ nail gun. I don’t blame him, it’s been intense on the noise front.

I had the shaking dog on my lap for most of the day while I worked, while the other one lay between the wheels of my desk chair. I got a sore back from the weird position I was sitting in and my inability to move the chair without rolling over small toes. The things you do for love.

My mood wasn’t improved by Queensland announcing yesterday afternoon that it’s closing its border to Sydney residents. I was desperately hoping for some warm sun and water in my life soon. Dammit.

I’m so cranky with those irresponsible teenagers who took COVID-19 into Queensland and went gadding about with symptoms … but I’m also a little worried they’ll receive death threats after media organizations shared their names and photos. Actually, they probably already have.

Last night, I traipsed over to my sister’s to use her washing machine in what is looking like a long-term arrangement, as my new laundry is still nowhere near being finished. She switched the spa on, so we could drink a glass of bubbly and commiserate about Queensland (she actually had a trip booked for next month).

What an unexpectedly fun way to end the day, I thought, as I drove happily home.

Then I discovered my phone was missing. I turned the house upside down, couldn’t find it, drove back to my sister’s house, couldn’t find it, drove back to my house, couldn’t find it, called my sister on the eldest’s phone and asked her to check the road outside her house, where she finally discovered it lying on the bitumen, so I drove back there AGAIN to retrieve it.

I was sure it would look like my glasses did when I found them in the gutter once …