Daisy Adventures Pt. 2

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I’m finding this hard to write. How do I find the words to truly express what happened? My attempts felt flat to me. So I’m going to stop trying to tell a story and lay it out in dot points.

  • Boyfriend was dog-sitting for the long weekend. – Boyfriend brought Dog over to my house to introduce to Daisy. We plotted how to do this safely, with the understanding that we might have to abort the mission if the dogs did not get along
  • The dogs seemed comfortable enough with each other and happily went on a walk together, slept apart in the bedroom, and hunt for kibble together (my family scatter kibble over the lawn for breakfast so that they have to search for it
  • We were having lunch on the couch when Boyfriend got up and went into the kitchen. Daisy moved into the vacated seat to look for crumbs. Dog rushed in and latched onto Daisy’s ear, not letting go
  • I knew that sticking your hand in during an attack is the thing you did not do. But I didn’t know what the right thing to do was and Daisy was crying out in such pain that I didn’t care about myself and shoved my hand in to try and break them apart. I failed. All I achieved was an accidental bite on my finger
  • I don’t know how it happened but Boyfriend dislodged Dog and forced her outside – I freaked out. Boyfriend comforted me. Daisy ate my lunch, which was on the floor
  • I cleaned up my finger. Called the local vets to try to find one that was open (it was a public holiday). Found an emergency clinic 30 mins away
  • Had to wait for a while at the vets. Googled how to stop a dog attack so that I know what to do in the future (but hopefully I wont ever need to apply that knowledge). Gave Daisy lots of pats
  • Daisy was fine. One puncture wound that didn’t need stitches and one superficial wound. Got painkillers. Got antibiotics. Paid large public holiday bill
  • Took Daisy home. She went straight to the back door to say hello to Dog (haha…no Daisy. You’re never saying hello to Dog again). Boyfriend took Dog back to her home. I felt like a horrible person who had Let Everyone Down and put Daisy in harm’s way

Daisy is fine. She was in pain but otherwise was her usual self. She really enjoyed eating her peanut butter smothered antibiotics. She isn’t traumatized and afraid of dogs during our walks. I’m so thankful for that.

I really don’t know what to feel about Dog. We have regularly dog-sat for her and will again next month for six weeks. I have walked her, fed her, played with her, petted her on the couch, let her under the covers at night. The attack chills me. But we were the ones that put her in that situation. And my family have had a situation where our beloved pet dog bit someone once and was able to live a long safe life afterwards. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I’ve decided that I will continue to support my Boyfriend’s dog-sitting and continue to stay at the house when she does. Dog has a second chance with me. But she is no longer welcome in my home. And I don’t think I’ll be able to feel as much affection for her as I have before the attack.

The rest of Daisy’s two weeks as my houseguest has been rather uneventful. She’s eaten a lot. She’s pooped a lot. She’s farted a lot. She’s gotten so damn excited about me going to the toilet (she quickly learned that once home from work, walkies would occur after a bathroom break). She’s made people smile in the streets. She’s crawled into my lab on the couch. She’s snored. She’s brought me Teddy with her wiggly butt when I ask “where’s Teddy?” She’s just been a wonderful dog. (And I have a pretty wonderful boyfriend too).

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Project Kitchen

It started with a loose screw. One of the kitchen cupboard doors would come off the hinges whenever I opened it. It took a long time for me to be annoyed enough to spend a minute tightening the screw. But then I started thinking – wouldn’t it look better without the doors?

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I have no experience in this sort of thing and did have my doubts but the thought was stuck in my head. Removing the doors was easy. But before I truly committed, I filled the shelves with things to see how it would look. I could always change my mind and put the doors back on. It didn’t look bad so I proceeded.

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At this point the main issue was that one of the hinge screws was so worn that I had to file new grooves for the screwdriver. Much swearing was involved.

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The next step was sanding. For whatever reason the previous home owner had painted the shelves. The paint itself was wrong for the shelves and could be scraped off with a fingernail or heavy pot. It was horrible and had to go. I borrowed my stepdad’s tools and proceeded to sand over many weekends. My house was filthy for weeks and I hated it.

Choosing the right paint colour was stressful. The kitchen has peach cupboards, blue glass splash back, and light walls that look vaguely greenish brown against the other colours. What colour would not make my shelves look shit? In the end I tried to match it with the splash back, which isn’t easy considering the blue glass looks different depending on the light. My choice on paint is not a perfect match (though you can’t tell in the photo) but I am amazed at how close I got.

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All in all I’m very pleased with the result. It makes the kitchen look more open and I am now better utilising the space. Before, those cupboards mainly contained junk and now they are displaying things that I actually use. I also moved the microwave, which frees up more bench space.

So many cakes

Yesterday my mum and I went to a cake expo. I’d never been to one before. Wow, there were so many amazing cakes. It makes me want to quit my job and spend all day baking, ignoring the issue that I would run out of money pretty quickly.
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There was a stall that allowed people to decorate a cupcake for free, using their products. It was really fun. I’ve always focused more on baking and ignoring decorating but this combined with watching a piping demonstration has sparked my desire to pipe icing onto everything I bake XD

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My mum didn’t like her piping so she artfully hid it XD Now that I think about it, cupcake decorating parties are a great idea.

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The cakes in the competition looked amazing. I’d love to see the process that the competitors went through to make them, from concept to execution.

The art of selling yourself

I think after last week, I can safely conclude that I do not like job-hunting. It is very depressing how few suitable jobs there are. By the end of the day, I feel like I’ve wasted the day and feel anxious.
But all is not lost for now I have a system. Mornings are devoted to trawling for jobs and writing applications, lunch is for eating and sketching (while watching Dr. Phil…because I tend to get addicted to junk…), afternoons are for arting on the computer, and evenings are for cooking, cleaning and gaming. Maybe I’ll deviate on the weekends but the important thing is that my weekdays are now structured.

I feel like I have to learn how to write all over again. The style of a cover letter is alien to me. My mum is helping me with the jargen and buzz words while my supervisor has helped me with the format and addressing selection criteria. Urg, selling myself is hard.
I know I’m awesome and I know I’ll do a good job. But actually explaining to people how I’m awesome? It feels so…fake…
I hate the thought of being judged by others, especially strangers. I even had panics because I was so worried that people would think my final talk was too short or my thesis is too small. My friend can’t even tell me how long her thesis chapters are without me getting upset.

I have discovered that I do not like the word “demonstrate”. How does one demonstrate their organisational skills in writing?

My Saturday Adventure

This morning started out as such a beautiful day. I cycled down the bike track and relaxed at home. Even in the afternoon when I was walking to my tram stop, the sun was intense on my back and I was regretting not reapplying my sunscreen.

When I got off my tram half an hour later, things were starting to look grey. I walked to Southern Cross Station, purchased a ticket and waited for my train that would take me to my mum’s place. Let me just say, I hate Southern Cross Station. First off, when the Commonwealth Games was in Melbourne some fools thought it would be a great idea to change the station name from Spencer Street to Southern Cross. Seriously, why? Spencer Street makes sense because it’s on Spencer Street. But Southern Cross…you can see it everywhere under the Southern Hemisphere. Why do aussies love to lay claim to it?
Then there is the redesign. Sure the roof is contemporary and interesting…but it’s ugly. And it traps all the train fumes so it is quite horrid to wait around on platforms.

As I was waiting for my train, we were suddenly hit by the deafening sound of hail. Hail is a rare occurrence in Victoria and is usually no greater than the size of a pea. But this hail was about three times the size. The hail lasted for quite a while before being replaced by heavy rain. Visibility outside was very poor.
Now, look at the photo. See those bright clear strips of roof that go down to meet the pillar. Yeah…design fail. You could see the hail collecting in those stupid dimples, along with massive waterfalls rushing down the pillar. The platforms were flooded with water and ice. I wish I had brought my camera with me.
It wasn’t long after before the evacuation alarms started to sound. Where were we to go? It was still pouring outside so we all huddled together in an open area of the station. Of course, the PA system wasn’t working so we had no clue what was going on. After part of the roof burst out onto some poor unsuspecting people, security rushed around telling us not to stand under the clear strips (the evacuation alarm was sounded again). About five minutes later they closed the station entirely, forcing us out into the storm.

I walked back to my tram stop with umbrella in hand. Of course, umbrellas are no help when the roads have turned to rivers. The storm was so intense that it had knocked the leaves out of the trees. The paths were covered in leaves and ice and I’m surprised that I only slipped once. At the tram stop the TV screen informed me that a tram would arrive in five minutes. Oh good, I was worried that they wouldn’t be working…and then when the five minutes had passed it was replaced by a “-“. I’m sorry but what is the point of installing those TV screens if they run on automatic and don’t provide useful information like “tram has broken down” or “you’re fucked”? It’s not like they’re lacking room on those stupid screens.

There were so many buildings screeching evacuation alarms. Including “Melbourne Assessment Prison”. I didn’t know what that building was but I certainly rushed to get as far away from it as possible. Pharmacy staff mopped water onto me as I walked past. Part of a path was so deep in water that I was detoured to the tram lanes. One 7-eleven was filled with blocks of ice that had clearly damaged the place.

By that stage I was really panicking. I’m sure I wasn’t alone – there were plenty of people dashing about and leaf-covered cars all over the place beeping each other. I walked another two blocks to my uni tram line, thinking I could hide out there until my line was operating again. No such luck, no trams down there either. I walked back to my tram stop and waited there for a little longer. And can I just say: why do all these tram stops lack shelter?
The rain had eased up so I decided to try my luck at Southern Cross Station again. If the train station was closed then surely buses would have been organized and if I couldn’t get home then I could at least get to my mum’s place. Nope, station still closed and bus shelter was flooding. Wonderful.

Once I had realised I was stranded in the city (note, all taxis were occupied by other stranded people), it was an hour after I had arrived at the station and about the time that my train was originally scheduled to arrive at my destination. There was only one option left and that was call my only friend close by who had a car. Thankfully she was at home and able to come get me but even then, it took a while. The traffic was insane and I had to walk several blocks to meet her.
I finally got home at 5:15pm – two hours after Southern Cross Station was closed. I’m really regretting not catching the earlier train…

EDIT: Photos already online
The first one is the failure that is Southern Cross Station, though not nearly as scary as being there. The other photos make me feel grateful that I only had to wade through ankle-deep water. It appears there was golf-ball sized hail but I must have missed it. Lucky me.

Freedom!

A short while ago my housemate gave her notice to vacate. And now she’s gone! She actually did some cleaning too (though still left the vacuuming).
To the very end, we didn’t speak. True, I did have my headphones in but I still expected some sort of something. But no, she left her keys on the table and was gone around midday on Saturday. I sure had fun moving my stuff around 🙂

Um…yeah, that’s all I really had to say…