So, it's been quite a week. The work computer, which I take home and connect to work with, via VPN, after two days a week in the office (so I can spread the other "half day" over all remaining days, by staying constantly available to deal with a crisis), well, that packed it in at the end of last week.
Then, the next day, after a day of Being Lovely in a huge nightmare shopping centre, with Abe's mum and the baby, the car wouldn't start. (And no, I won't call her my mother-in-law, because she's not . . . although there's an awful lot of marrying-off that happens up here. And after 20 years + of living in Sydney, where none -- oh, ok, 2 -- of my friends were married, but absolutely no-one else was, am astonished at 40-something, to find that everyone seems to be married in Brisbane. What? Why? And I'm awfully berloody sick of institutions calling me "Missus" constantly. Am sick of saying "It's Ms", after years of not having to. And the BANK up here decided to take all titles away and, as both of us are Dr XY -- although mine's not medical -- some sexist shit clearly decided that couldn't be it, so changed it to Dr x and Mrs Y. Until I was a humourless bitch-from-hell and made them change it.)
But where was I?
Oh yes, car broke down, in ridiculously large carpark.
Anyway, the miracle people got it going again. Took me round and about the place for a few days, and then carked it on Tuesday night at the end of work.
Still, at least Abe could pick up the girl from childcare; at least there were no international visiting obligations to deal with; at least there was a bus etc etc.
Then this morning, headed out again to meet the towtruck driver, because car was comprehensively dead.
And I wonder if you know that old Bush Ballad, "We'll all be roooooned, said Hanrahan"?
Well, this guy was Hanrahan. He wasn't very old, in his rather large truck. He was spherical, and even more so with a luminous vest. Blond, red-faced, bearded. And he looked at the car, and he looked at the (deathly quiet, suburban) street, where I'd managed to find free parking. And he sighed. Then he looked around, and he sighed again. Did I know who owned the four-wheel drive (nope, barely even know the name of the suburb)?
Can't do it, no room, what a disaster, can't block the street, it'll never work.
We'll all be rooooooooned, said Hanrahan.
Et cetera.
And of course, it was all fine. Reminding me that essentially I'm an optimist.
Maybe that's why I'm convinced there are many worse things, many harder things, many more heartbreaking things, than having a charming, beautiful, cheerful girl who will never walk.
