I went to the ENT yesterday and he vacuumed my ears YET AGAIN. It was horribly uncomfortable, but far preferable to being in the waiting room, where three small children were singing and dancing with gay abandon while their mother gazed fondly at them.
The ENT and I exchanged a very level look as I walked through his door and we both noted that such behaviour would not have been tolerated by our parents when we were children.
In my advancing years I often find myself philosophizing that while my generation’s parents were too strict, we have gone too far the other way and given all the power in the relationship to our children. We let them get away with blue murder and smile indulgently while they commit it.
Anyways, the ENT checked my freshly vaccuumed ears, said they were infection free and gave me permission to swim again!
I excitedly texted DD to tell him the news and he replied: “More correctly – you can get your ears wet again … we must arrange swimming lessons for you.”
Yes dear. I said I was happy with just getting my ears wet for now. I have had many, many, many swimming lessons in my time and none of them have stuck.
It’s a bit sad that I lost all of my March and April swimming opportunities to ear infections. I will be harassing DD to crack out his wetsuit so we can splash around soon.
I love April weather. The light is so sharp, the ocean is still balmy, it’s cold enough to sleep snuggled under a doona at night, but still warm enough to wear a t-shirt during the day.
Well, it was until yesterday, when the council accidentally razed my favourite bush reserve while doing “controlled” burning. The air was filled with smoke – my nose and throat were stinging by the time night fell. Helicopters started swooping around in the afternoon trying to douse the flames with water.
This is what it looked like last night from my friend Emily’s balcony:
In happier news, my Newie friend Megz is down in Sydney with her superfish daughter for a swimming carnival, so she popped over to check out my renovations and eat some nibbles – in between me running my super skipper to training and back.
Our wires were crossed and she thought we were heading out for dinner. Ooops. No. Good thing I’ve invested in a diary, as I’ve realised I’m at the point there’s no longer enough room in my head for keeping track of everything. Next time I will note when she’s in town and block out my evening accordingly.
Oh, and I am also very excited by a story I wrote yesterday about Australia leading the world in Champagne sales growth. I think I might actually be the first journo to cover it here. Think … can’t be sure. But I got quotes from Moet Hennessy and Mumm and everything, so I felt very proper!
I have another freaking massive day ahead of me, including a freelance article due by 9am, a Zoom call at 9.30am, coffee with a contact at 11am, a gin picnic at 1pm, a phone catch-up with the disabled employment service at 4.15pm and a dinner engagement at 7pm.
I really have no idea how I used to fit a regular job into my life.
I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough.
Have a fabulous weekend and I’ll have lots of chitter chat for you on Monday.
Song of the day: REM “Nightswimming”