Out of service

Sugar Paws sends me two reminders before every grooming appointment – one a week before and one a day before – to ensure Charlie and Bilbo turn up.

Actually, pretty much every appointment I make these days involves reminders or some sort of digital confirmation that I have booked.

All except one.

Last Friday night I belatedly remembered I had booked a car service for first thing on Monday morning. But then I doubted myself because there wasn’t anything in my inbox or on my phone.

I was certain I’d made the booking online, so I ignored DD’s suggestion to ring first and check – I hate talking on the phone that much – and drove to Brookvale just in case.

Brookvale is a fair clip from my place, especially in morning traffic, but I made the mistake of getting a service package for my car when I bought it there.

It didn’t seem worth taking a long bus ride home after drop off, then turning around and heading back again on the bus for pick up, so I bunkered down and worked from the Subaru showroom.

I may need to find a different approach next time, as crouching on a couch and typing at a coffee table while children’s TV blares on the big screen isn’t my favourite way to work.

(It also appears to have screwed up my “good” hip, as I couldn’t bend down by the end of the day.)

After two and a half loooooong hours my car was ready … and the manager tried to charge me $600 for it … which is exactly what happened at the last service.

You’d think they’d check their system first, but no, they’ve skipped that step along with giving booking confirmations.

I sent him back to his computer and he returned with a folded invoice, conceding I was correct and there would be no charge.

I wonder how many blithe souls forget?

Speaking of forgetting, I left my make-up bag and khaki pants with diamanté side seam trims at DD’s house, so he dropped them off yesterday afternoon on his way to the airport. He was heading to Melbourne for work and gave me a hasty, panicked hug because he was cutting things so fine that he might not have time to get a party pie in the Business Class Lounge.

Fortunately he scraped in with a couple of spare minutes to spare and grab one before take off.

It feels very quiet not having him or the kids in Sydney.

The apartment is tidy and peaceful. I wandered up to Woolies after work knowing the meagre supplies I bought would last ages, then ate some leftover chicken soup and settled in front of the computer for the night.

Not the smartest move with my other hip acting up, but I jammed a spiky ball between it and the back of the office chair and hoped for the best.

I might need to tie one of those “out of service” tags to myself …

I’ve loved reading everyone’s emails and Facebook posts about their holiday plans/ideas/travels. Keep them coming please!

OK, gotta run, a plumber is coming at 7am to examine my mouldy ceiling after the “yes” vote won in the body corporate poll to decide whether to fix it.

Song of the day: sugar hit … takes me back to the carefree early 90s … Luther Vandross & Janet Jackson “The Best Things In Life Are Free”