Over and out

I took Charlie the Moodle for an allergy injection last night.

There goes another $200.

He’s been chewing his paws like a crazed beast and I was left with no choice but to throw money at the problem.

The receptionist took him out the back to administer the injection and, as I sat there with Bilbo, a sobbing family emerged from one of the examination rooms. I glimpsed a furry, still body lying under a towel on the table inside.

My heart broke for them as they choose an urn for their beloved pet and I cried all the way back to the car.

It followed a confronting day at work.

One of my colleagues was at Bondi Surf Club during the terrible incident on Sunday. He saw it all, every horrifying moment.

We checked on him during a Teams call. He recounted what happened and the heroism he witnessed among the lifeguards who were there, literally dodging bullets to triage the injured.

There was also a remarkable moment when one of the lifeguards realised no one was patrolling the beach and turned to see two people drowning in the middle of the attack. He rescued them, then immediately ran to assist the terror victims.

It is unfathomable.

I was having dinner with my sister and a friend on Wednesday night when two helicopters flew over our heads. Everyone in the beer garden froze for a moment.

Innocence has been lost.

Someone on my local Facebook group attributed the helicopters to a kidnap plot that was thwarted by police in North Sydney. But that awful drama unfolded at lunchtime. I have no idea what the helicopters in the evening were about.

I am horrified by the latest news that heavily armed tactical police swooped on a group of men in Sydney’s southwest yesterday, who were believed to have been on their way to Bondi Beach.

It’s all a bit much.

So I didn’t really have the strength to deal with the latest hair-tearing messages on my body corporate WhatsApp group yesterday.

There is so much complaining, but very little doing.

They take photos of plumbers they feel aren’t working hard enough. They quibble about replacing rotting fences. They snark about doors being chocked open … but expect someone else to remove the objects that are being used for the chocking.

I could go on, but it would make for very dull reading.

I think I will resign at the annual general meeting. I’m feeling a bit done with being the secretary/point of contact for every damn problem.

Oh, and do not ask me why I decided 9pm last night was a good time to try and untangle my Christmas lights.

One. Hour. Later …

I finally started hanging them on the balcony and accidentally stepped in a steaming pile of Moodle poo.

Deep breaths.

Thank heavens its Friday. I am treating myself to an afternoon off – a week of writing comms about Bondi for work has worn me out.

I hope your weekend is filled with love and kindness.

We need so much more of that in this world.

And I might not catch you until Tuesday. Monday will be a bit tricky due to a crazy weekend that includes traversing highways, byways and skyways for various festivities.

Song of the day to resume next week.