I’m not sure how but according to my Fitbit I managed to walk 40 kilometres in the last week of February. All under an umbrella, presumably. It never stops raining here in Sydney.
Our old house creaks and leaks, doors jam, the gutters overflow, the bricks on the back terrace are as treacherous as ice and indoors everything is disappearing under a soft fuzz of mould. We can’t air the joint because a river runs through it.
I know it’s worse further north. Commiserations.
We were booked to go to the Chinese Garden of Friendship tonight (don’t tell Psycho The Horrible) but I’ve taken a rain check on that as we batten down the hatches.
I haven’t been able to get out of the house to renew my driver’s licence (I need to take an sight test) or buy a new car (I need to take a brain test). At this rate I’ll need to sit the licence test again which would be a disaster because I don’t know how far away to park from a fire hydrant. Or any of the other rules of the road, for that matter.
I’m a baby boomer. Get out of my way.
I’m surprised my resting heart rate remains a calm 52 bpm through all this.
The Fitbit says I’ve burned a daily average of 2500 calories over the past wet week, walking in small circles. That’s four bottles of red per day. That’s a pace not even I can keep up with. Not even when I’m locked in.
We’ve run out of clean undies. Nina has gone feral. I haven’t had a real coffee for a week.
The centre cannot hold.
I’ve just checked. It’s raining.