Domestic Sunday

A seemingly perfectly good Fisher and Paykel discarded in my laneway.

A seemingly perfectly good Fisher and Paykel discarded in my laneway.

I’ve spent 30 minutes or so tonight doing some hand-washing.

Unfortunately my washing machine is acting up at the moment. It does it from time to time, regrettably. Normally, I just need to power down, let it rest, and then it’s back and fully operational. Let’s hope that happens again.

Co-incidentally, I noticed someone had thrown out their Fisher and Paykel washing machine in the back lane-way.

Mine has been a trusty friend for over a decade now. Maybe it’s time to replace it?

I still remember vividly the night I bought it from Harvey Norman at Moore Park.

I’d had a trusty old Whirlpool which had lasted for a number of years, but unfortunately had developed the habit of walking across the floor when it went into spin-cycle.

I put up with it for a while, until one night when I was walking downstairs with some garbage and I overhead a neighbour say… “Oh no, it’s that fucking washing machine again”.

Such a comment was enough to convince me it was time for a replacement.

It’s a bummer that I’ve had to resort to hand-washing tonight, though, as I have a VIP guest at work tomorrow I need to meet and greet. Thus, I’ve gone through my wardrobe, have chosen the best shirt and tie etc ahead of the visit.

In other domestic news, I noticed an interesting change in the garbage room downstairs. We used to have equal numbers of paper and bottle recycling bins. In a sign of the times, we now have more bottle recycling bins than papers bins. I guess it’s an indication that either we’re doing more things online and buying fewer newspapers, or maybe it’s a sign we’re all drinking far too much? :)

In the midst of all this domesticity, I did find a few minutes for a bit of “me” time. I popped down the street tonight for a meal at my favourite local Thai, where I enjoyed some BBQ octopus with rice. Excellent.

As I sat there and watched the passing parade of those coming in for take-away, and those enjoying a Sunday night meal together, I pondered for a moment who goes out on a Sunday night.

There were three young backpackers waiting for some takeaway. There were two young blokes on an internet date (I presume, because of the body language and lack of fluent conversation). And there was a couple with a baby. Unlike many young couples who seem to communicate to each other through the child, they genuinely seemed interested in each other, and were having a lovely time together, it seemed. And of course, there was me, the bloke who needed a break from hand-washing.

The only other memorable thing about this thing was running into my friend John for the second time in 24-hours. We saw each other on Goulburn Street yesterday as he was heading off to a movie with friends. And then we saw each other again today at Railway Square. “Are you stalking me?”, I asked him with a laugh.

It will be a reasonably early night in bed for me. A bit of tv. Write some emails. Go to bed. Get up early and iron. I live such a glamorous life!