According to those who like to meld Eastern and Western astrology, Marion and I are both Cancerians born in the Year of the Dog (like this guy as fate would have it). As we idly looked at out horoscope in the café after the great pasta distaster (more later), we were told “...not to expect any relationship fireworks this week”. Naturally we took this as a challenge, and so far we’re doing fine...

A whole lot of little things went wrong yesterday. I was due for a shave, but couldn’t find my razor and product anywhere. Abandoning myself (and thus Marion) to a day of rugged sandpaperiness, I had a little more time up my sleeve. I had to buy a train ticket (I usually get a weekly or monthly) and found that the machine was rejecting my EFTPOS transaction. A realisation that I had blythely spent, donated and bill-paid my way to short-term financial oblivion later, I was catching the late train and working out how to survive until Thursday on $20 or so. As occasionally happens. After singing at church I had Marion over for lunch. One of the tins of tomatoes had opened a little and I didn’t want to risk using it, so I borrowed a couple of unusual orange tomatoes from my housemate Hilda, and cooked up a superb Napolitana sauce for two. I set down my bowl in an inadvisable place to open a door, and the bowl fell on to the carpet. There was not a single fusillo left in the bowl, but on the carpet was spread widely all the fusilli, some sensational Napolitana sauce, and melted parmasan cheese. Once I had got it off (luckily the landlord doesn’t own the carpet, so he doesn’t care about it), I had half of Marion’s serving, which she thoughtfully had kept contained within the bowl. After that we went to the local café for Lunch Part Deux, where we were given our romantic challenge for the week.

The last time I received an email with the subject line “Ouch!!”, it was from my ex-girlfriend Tiff during the not-so-happy final stage of our romance. It was with a little trepidation that I opened an email with that subject line from Marion today. Fortunately in one sense, and unfortunately in every other, she had walked into a revolving door that had stopped suddenly and has a bump on her head. Her dad was there and got her a coffee. Poor thing. If I was there I’d kiss it better, lose my balance and make it hurt more. We’re pretty good at slapstick, Marion and myself.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by Lia.

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