So our story now starts in Melbourne. It’s the night before I leave, and I just had an awesome going away at BLVD with Wayne, Kimanji, Eve, Mil, Lyn, Jo, Cat and Morgi. I came home to find my room still in the state of utter chaos that I had left it in. My wish that it would sort itself out and pack itself into my luggage had obviously not been granted. Damn you, dodgy genie!!! I sorted some of it out and then fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke up and found the same mess. Damn. It HAD been a dream that I’d already packed. And of all things to dream about, packing wasn’t exactly the most exciting. The sadness swept over me, knowing that I had wasted a dreaming night, not on a nice one involving both Jessica Alba and Scarlett Johansen (I’m greedy!) doing things to me, but on PACKING! That’s one less nice dream night in my life. I felt very cheated.
Anyway, having woken up, I decided that procrastination was in order, and after some nice coffee, decided to have more coffee with Em and Juniper. As you can tell, I REALLY didn’t want to pack. So off I went to Brighton with the other 2 in tow to a café called Pound (as in the lb sense and not the “pound you to death” or English currency sense. On a side note – we’d been wondering which sense it was in. The actual logo clarified it- it was lb. But when we opened the menu, on one of the pages was all the different definitions of “pound”).
Anyway, after a nice, slow lunch, I was meandering home, when I decided to go to a computer shop to get RAM (I REALLY REALLY didn’t want to pack). I was informed that I could upgrade my RAM to 2gb, so obviously that’s what I needed to get 4 fucking hours before my flight! I drove home, got my laptop, then got back to Clayton and had my baby super charged. I eventually made it home just before my parents got home to find my room in exactly the same state that they last saw it in. I quickly hurried and ironed some things and packed a bit more into the suitcase to make it look like I had been doing something. It was about 4:30 by this stage.
By the time everyone came home (about 5:30) I had done something. I was about half packed and all my clothes were roughly ironed. Now you have to give me credit for something! (And it’s a lot easier to pack when you’re a guy: jocks, jeans and a t-shirt and you’re done!) When my mum got home, she did her usual maximum-paranoia mode hysteria, which involved trying to help me pack, me explaining that it didn’t matter if she could get more stuff in, I didn’t want to take anymore and that I needed to pack, so that I knew I could bring the stuff back and then her chucking a hissy-fit at me 3 hrs before I had to leave! After some talking and proving that I had everything I needed, she calmed down and I left to get to Tullamarine. I drove down and my dad drove my car back to our new place. I got to the Tiger terminal about 5 mins befor they were going to stop handing out boarding passes and in doing so, I avoided the excess kg baggage charge. Yay for me!
The flight itself was unremarkable, so I’m not going to write much about that. But Darwin was. Hang on for the next post…
PS – I realize this is not as eventful as the Sydney Stories, but just you wait! The next few travel adventures are far more fun. I just needed an anti-climactic, near normal blog post to settle things down.
1 comment:
You have no idea how long it's been since I've been called Wayne
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