Friends and Pigeons and Bureaucracy

On Saturday afternoon Lester and I were sitting down having a break from the housework I was doing in preparation for having a couple of friends over the next day for lunch. I was going out for dinner with friends that night; it felt so good to be having social get-togethers with people I enjoy seeing. I was finally better from that horrible ear infection I've been battling for weeks. After being sick, it even feels good to be able to vacuum, you know? God knows it was a disgusting piggery and desperately needed it :) So we were sitting there on Keanu and I noticed the local pigeon, popping its head inside the front door for a look. It walked in a few steps, in that funny chiropractically disabling way that pigeons walk, but then changed its mind and turned around and walked out again.

I don't know if it's the food in the dog bowl that is piqueing it's fancy or what, but yesterday it took things a step further. Lester noticed it was inside this time, and so he chased it. It got as far as the bathroom, where it could go no further.

Man, I got in the zone straight away. I wish I could do that more often. Just walked straight in to the bathroom, knew I had to grab the pigeon on the first get or else it would fly around nutso and Lester would try to eat it. The pigeon sat there, its wings were down, I reached out, it squeaked, and I had it. It was all in that slow-motion sort of way that sportspeople describe, when time slows down when they're slam dunking. I walked the pigeon outside and let it go. I wish I'd kept it longer so that I could have checked it out at close range but I felt sorry for it.

Like I'm feeling sorry for myself right now. I had a really nice weekend of socialising with my homey chickies and then today I have woken up with a sore throat and feel like I'm sickening for something. But before that I saw my school friends on Saturday night. We met up at Seven Stars, the Chinese place I love, and merrily did eat and chat. Sunday I had Cloudbusting and Jane over. Those are two people in my life who I get such a lift from seeing; it was lovely to see them together, and to cook for them.

Then today, VicRoads. One of the more charming smashing-your-head-against-bureaucracy establishments. I spent an hour there only to be told in the end that they couldn't process my order. Because Olive is still registered in Mark's name, they would also require a letter of authority for me to order and pay for new plates to be sent to his address. I understand the requirements for such things, but everything in that place is so convoluted, with IT system changes and regulation changes and 75 hoops for every little thing. I understand the requirements for all of these things. I just have an issue with the way they are implemented. My dad couldn't even get his car registered in both him and mum's names because apparently VicRoads would spontaneously combust if one vehicle was registered in two people's names. It has a funny feeling of a government department, does it not?

To be fair to her, the woman on the counter dealing with me hadn't ordered new plates before. I wasn't going to get annoyed with her. It's not the fault of the poor people working on the frontlines of governmental pooholes. They shouldn't bear the brunt but they do often enough that there is a sign posted on the front of the counter saying "We will not tolerate abuse to our staff". I understand why that sign is necessary. I also think I would rather eat uncooked roadkill than work somewhere like that. I really feel for all the people who do.

So I left VicRoads, feeling the onset of this sore throat and a bit of a dose of PMS to boot, and burst into angry tears walking to my still-number-plateless car. Sometimes it's just the small things that set you off, you know?

And now I'm sitting here feeling sorry for myself because I was meant to go visit my parents tonight for dinner and instead I'm stuck at home feeling a bit unwell and trying not to do the comparison pity party thing of going, "How come some other people never t get sick and I've already had my fair share of being sick, and why can't I stay well for months on end or at least for a long enough time to get a good bout of catching up with people again until I get the next dose of whatever goddamn thing is going around - and gee, everything's so depressing, I hate living in this world, maybe the pigeon gave me bird flu!" Whingeing at God in that ultra irritating way that kids do when they're feeling sorry for themselves, snot running down their faces, going "Muuuuuuuuuuuum," and driving Mum mad. Maybe I should go over to my parents' place after all :)