message in an iBottle

So it seems I've become one of those people that sleeps with their iPod and phone next to their pillow. I used to make fun of my dear friend Simon for sleeping with his phone, but now I do it myself. It's just that I'm so desperate to hear from friends, and want to know what's happening outside this house. I check my phone and email constantly.

I keep getting emails from holiday companies advertising their accommodation in Thailand/Bali, or lovely hotels in France. I don't want it! Go away! I can't go to those places right now! Then there's Woolies telling me that if I spend 90 dollars on groceries this week, I will get 15 cents a litre off fuel. I don't think Ash is likely to spend that much at a supermarket, and TOBy hasn't seen much action since I left, he gets to go to the supermarket on the weekend and perhaps Bunnings (DIY store) if he's lucky. Poor little car must feel really unloved. I love you TOBes, I miss you! Or perhaps he's really enjoying a break from having to drive me to work and the gym every day. Maybe's he's loving spending some quality time in the car port, chatting to Vespa and the neighbour's Toyota. I wonder what language they would speak? French, as TOBy is a Citroën, or Italian, cause Vespy's a Piaggo, or maybe English?

But no emails from friends, saying they miss me terribly and their life just isn't the same since I left. I have done it to myself though, writing this stupid blog. Nobody needs to speak to me anymore. They just need to check Facebook or this blog and they know all about what I do, what I eat, who I hang out with. I did kind of think it was nice that the peeps back in Australia and elsewhere would be able to read about my trip, as I like to read up on what my friends do. Except it seems my friends don't write blogs, or post on Facebook much.

When I hung out with Phiroze last week, quite often I would tell him something, and he would grin and say 'I know that already'. Serious downside of blogging. Total conversation killer. I must not give so much away about myself. But then, what on earth do I write about? I can't keep myself out of my writing. I am an interfering type of writer. And besides my super exciting week in Amsterdam, nothing happens here. I pack, clean, vacuum, sort, organise, eat, go to the gym, sleep, read. Oh and I faff about on the internet. That's about it. I do not go places. I do not see peoples. I am looking forward to my sister coming this weekend, someone fresh to talk to! Woo!

I spoke to my lovely husband today, though. I missed him a lot last night. I couldn't sleep and wanted a hug. And then Earl the Squirrel and my fluffy cat (a toy one, not the real one, though the toy one does meow) just did not do the job very well. My husband and I often are terrible on the phone/Skype, we just stare at each other and try desperately to think of things to say. Sometimes it feels very forced, it's funny as. We never have that in real life, we always have stuff to talk about and often have laughing fits about things. We're just much better when we're in the same room. He gives the most awesome hugs. Today was good though, perhaps we just need to learn how to Skype again. I asked him when he's coming to Europe. He continues to say he's not coming to Europe. I think he is. He'll miss me enough eventually. Don't you worry, I always get my way.

So I'm working on Mum's study right now, for those of you who haven't been inside it, it was always a clutter of books and desks and papers and cables and printers and binders and more stuff. Not anymore. It is turning into a spacious, comfortable, airy space. We've spent yesterday on it together, and I spent all day on it alone today, and tomorrow we'll finish it. I hope...

Speak to you then. Send me an email. I miss you.