Stream of Consciousness

Cold. Eight year old foot wedged between my sleeping knees. Streak of sunlight piercing the curtain. Bright but icy. Grumble of garbage trucks and a sprinkle of shattering glass into the tray. A siren squealing down Old Cleveland Road.

Up and a slide into ugggghhhh boots, shiver into a soft red robe. Shuffle to kettle for a brew of green tea and superior anti-oxidants. Wash up last night's midnight snack plates. Throw some towels into the laundry. Slam dunk. Good shot.

Check the emails. Check Facebook. Porridge with almond milk, cinnamon and cranberries.

Stirrings from slumbering sugarplums. The sound of a Nintendo DS cranking into action and a call for the Weetbix, toast and hot chocolate. The short order cook goes to work.

Today, I embrace school holidays and a week off work to scrub my house into a sparkling wonderland for soon-to-be final inspection. I am cleaning with bleach, hot soapy water and a toothbrush. No mouldy smudge will go undone. Windows. Dusty fly-screens. THE OVEN!

Too cold to garden. Wait til the sun rises high and thaws us whining Brisbanites out.

We need to locate a new copy of BATMAN Arkham City for the X-Box 360 as it broke on the first day of school holidays. Go figure.

Co-ordinate a dinner date between my adult sons in Sydney and my visiting sister and mother. Party planner from afar.

Wait for my literary agent to ring me with good news. Any news. Just news. Something shiny and new.

Begin to think about Tax. Change my mind and shove that aside to make beds.

Shopping. My mind turns to shopping and I think new woolly, toasty, cosy jumpers all round are in order. As we move closer to Antarctica it will undoubtedly grow colder. As we inch south so shall the mercury.

Seventeen sleeps and we can't wait.

Now we begin to move the junk to the garage for the impending week-end garage sale.

It's nice to have some time off to play with the kids, spring clean and unwind. No pressure to find words, weave stories or sift through facts and figures to write a stirring report. I love to write but sometimes my brain likes to take a break. Only a little one.

That's Tuesday morning so far.  

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