Fat Bunny

  • Spoon Theory II

    The measuring your ability to do things by how many spoons it will cost you is now a common idiom, but I think it needs an update to include the exchange rate for spoons spent on loved one’s and friends vs. spoons spent on bureaucracy. The same task for a friend vs for a job will cost me a different amount. Helping a friend fill out forms = 1 spoon, filling out forms for myself = 2 spoons. However I suspect there are people that experience the exact opposite of that. It would be nice sometimes I could be in the double spoons for myself group, I could get so much more done. Maybe I need some kind of placebo spoon tasks that I can be told are for someone else but they are really for me?

    Apropos of nothing I have started a new medication that makes me slightly foggy of mind in the evening, the same time that I usually write these blogs. Which is why I suspect I will wake up in the morning and reread this to see if it makes any sense at all.

    *I have ten bucks on no.

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  • Here Comes Another One…

    It’s good news week
    Someone’s dropped a bomb somewhere
    Contaminating atmosphere
    And blackening the sky

    And it’s not great for my mental health. 2025 has moved from being just around the corner to at the damn door, and an old mans thoughts turn to what to do with the ever dwindling years he has left. I am not delusional enough to believe I can change anything within, but maybe I can change something external to give me a better chance of making through the next 12 months. I think the best thing I can do for my health is to avoid news. I don’t mean just not actively seeking out day to day news, but vigorously avoiding all the sources of news that I can. I get that pretending awful stuff isn’t happening won’t make me a good citizen, but constantly be depressed and anxious doesn’t make me particularly useful to society either.

    So next year instead of engaging in political discourse I am going to block every word I can think of that might lead me down the wrong path. I suspect at least the next 4 years (at least) is going to be an absolute dogs breakfast, and there is absolutely nothing I can do to change it. I am skeptical of the effectiveness of shouting on the internet, and I am not wired to erase a CEO. I have very limited time and resources available to me, so I have to prioritize my very small circle. I can on a good day help my friends, be kind to the odd stranger, and make a safe haven for my family.

    No news, no politics, no drama is probably impossible without completely disconnecting from the world, and I have already gone a little too far down that path in the last few years. It got very easy to feel comfortable at home during covid, and then again when I was sick. Hopefully I can find a bit more balance in 2025 and try to let people in, ask for help, and help others in return, but I am not going to be able to do that if I am in a constant state of depression about the state of things. I am glad there are people out there dedicated to societal on a grand scale, I’m going to need to step away and occasionally feed a duck or adopt a cat.

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  • The Thin Black and White Duke…

    About 6 weeks ago a cat followed my eldest home from Taco Bell. A strange choice for a cat to make as my eldest is nervous around animals and taco bell is not a great option for cats, or for people to be honest. For the next few days the cat stuck around the backyard, blagging meals from me, and probably the neighbours.

    This is a very calm cat and obviously a pet as they had a collar with a bell but no number to call. I spent a few days checking local lost pet pages on Facebook etc but nothing was posted about this lost cat. As I was in the middle of trying to finish the farm, a few health tests etc and I was being Mr Sensible about things I decided I should contact the local council pet rescue to try and reunite the poor cat with it’s family. I keep saying it because at this point I was sure it was female, and pretty sure not desexed. That also played heavily into my wanting the cat to be in the hands of people that could get the vet to check everything out. I was sad to see the cat go, but I was pretty sure there must be a family missing them.

    Over the next week I put it out of my mind until I saw that the next Saturday the animal shelter was having an adoption day, this seemed like a great opportunity to go check if the cat had been collected by its owners or was still there. In my head I decided to let the universe take the lead in this one and if the cat was there on Saturday I would look into the possibility of adopting it.

    The morning came, I was first one there, I enquired after the cat, but was informed her family had collected them a few days ago. I was disappointed but was sure it was for the best, the cat was home and my life was already pretty busy. The universe had obviously decided it wasn’t to be.

    Then 3 weeks ago I saw a post in a local group.

    It seems SHE has runaway again. I contacted the person to fill them in on what I knew, the lady in the meantime I had discovered the cat belonged to her new neighbours. Who didn’t seem to be the most responsible pet owners, with several cats and dogs being allowed to roam at will. Also apparently it was a house with a lot of shouting and screaming, so it seems the poor cat was just trying to get some peace. The woman waited several days for the owners to come and collect the cat and she had texted them several times. Eventually she to got in contact with the council and them collect the cat. She also let them know that I was interested in adopting the cat if the owners relinquished her.

    Three weeks of the occasional call, and daily checking the council website for any updates, but only being told that the owners legally had till the 28th to collect the cat. So I once again decided that the universe was in charge of this and I should probably be concentrating on the hospital day surgery I had booked in for Tuesday. The surgery went well and found nothing unexpected so I was a bit sore but recovering well the next day when the council called a few days early to let me know the cat was mine if I wanted. I told them I would be there as soon as possible.

    A quick stop for painkillers and pet supplies and I was soon at the animal shelter with the second born child. I had kept all these goings on to myself just in case it didn’t work out, because then I would have a disappointed child and no cat. Upon arrival we were shown to the “get to know the cat room” and the cat was brought in to meet us (again). There was no doubt she was coming home with us, the only thing was she was a he. I chatted with the shelter manager who was very happy that we were taking the cat, she told us the owners had blocked their number and that they had also surrendered two dogs earlier that week.

    As I was filling out the adoption paperwork I needed to fill in a name for our new family member, and I didn’t have a suitable one ready. Since our she cat had turned out to be a tom cat the name Ziggy popped into my head, you know Major Tom/Space Oddity/Bowie/Ziggy Stardust. And that’s how we came to adopt a cat called Ziggy.

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  • I Want My Life Back

    It wasn’t a great one but at least I occasionally got to do something other than work. Two years of grief, clearing junk, and other life stuff that started pretty much the same time the pandemic shutdowns ended has been a bit of chore. Maybe a chore isn’t understating it a bit, it’s broken my soul. It’s ruined my health. It’s damaged my relationships. Soooo not great.

    Somedays the only thing keeping my head out of oven is a sliver of hope that within a few months I can be standing in a renovated cabin, debt free, drinking coffee and listening to gothic cabaret while I bake biscuits and stare at the trees. I won’t the younger child working on their art in the tiny house, being themselves and popping up for coffee as often as they can tolerate me singing the wrong words and making dreadful puns.

    I want elder child settled in with his mother and immersed in his chosen tech career. Maybe looking up from screen occasionally and deciding to visit me.

    I want all the money, work, life stress back under control. I want the time to have a meal that hasn’t been reheated in the microwave. I want the constant stress to stop ravaging my body and causing constant pain from the inflammation. I want to take a drive that doesn’t involve going to a hardware store or doctor.

    Is that too much to ask?

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  • I’m an idiot…

    Proper anxiety attacks are a funny old thing. Well I mean terrifying and confusing, but also funny in that kind of way where you realize that you are an idiot. I had a full on proper sweaty, pulse racing, chest clutching panic attack today. I literally thought I was dying and yet did nothing to seek help. I was checking my temperature and using the ECG on my watch because I was convinced I had some kind of flu that was about to stop my heart. Not for a second did I think something helpful like “hey maybe this is a panic attack”, it was all “I’m going to drop dead with a dirty kitchen”.

    A few hours later and I am not dead, my heart rate is normal etc. The only lingering after effect is that I just spent $200 on a fancy blood pressure monitor with overnight shopping. Which I managed to order from Amazon during the attack.

  • Oh that’s why…

    Tiny moments of awareness sometimes sneak up on you. This morning while making a coffee for the second born, I was thinking about how calm it made me to be carefully making coffee for them even when I am exhausted or sick. It’s because I miss making coffee for my father.

    My fathers visits were always a two coffee affair, one on arrival and another about an hour later, but only after he theatrically checked his watch to make sure he had time. He always had time.

    Now I make coffee for my child, and although we don’t spend hours chatting as we drink it still makes me feel connected to them as they do that adulting thing to be the person they are becoming. I miss making coffee for my father, and one day I will miss making coffee for my child.

    The last time you will do something is often a surprise, so I hope I am still making coffee for someone for a while yet, because I make a damn good cup.

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  • Occasional…

    Last night I went the Sydney Opera House to see Passenger with the younger child. Which has become a bit of a tradition, such a tradition that I have now lost count of how many of his concerts we have seen together. This however was the first time I have had a drinking age child at an event with me, since the elder child doesn’t drink at all.

    I don’t consider myself a drinker anymore but a cocktail on the harbour with snacks before the concert is definitely an occasion, so I guess I am now an “occasional drinker”. I suspect I have been to more concerts than I have had drinks in the past few years. The occasional cocktail also makes me confident that I can have a drink every few years without having to have a 2nd one. To be clear I was never an inverted commas alcoholic, but I did use it as a crutch for my anxiety. I also had a relationship with someone that was not a great person when drinking, and had no interest in addressing it, so my relationship with drinking is a bit complicated.

    I’m not sure an espresso martini counts as drinking anyway, it’s more of dessert.

  • Lace on the Gloves…

    Some days you just have to do the things.

    Ignore the obstacles and push forward.

    Today that thing that I needed to do was finally disposing of my father’s motorcycle bits and pieces. Bikes were a big part of my father’s life, he trained as a mechanic, he raced bikes, he rode them his entire life. He even used to photograph me on them, or maybe it was just an excuse to take more bike pictures.

    All the valuable ones went years ago, and it was mostly just bits and pieces and a few frames left. I was caught in the trap of placing sentimental and financial value on what was left, but to move forward they had to go.

    And the only way to do that without help to lift them is with a reciprocating saw. I’m not going to pretend that it was cathartic or depressing, it was just a job that I was putting off.

  • High Days and Holy Days…

    It was a good day, not for any particular reason just a busy day that kept my hands busy and my head empty. The closer I get to that last load of “hoarder” rubbish finally going to the tip the more motivated I am to get it done. Even if that includes struggling to solo a big old fridge into the back of ute because I can’t wait a few weeks for help.

    I could easily write a list of what needs to go now. A few people could do it all in one day, or I can do it by myself over a month. Three people can load a caravan roof onto a trailer in a few minutes, one person needs to spend hours cutting it into manageable chunks to even be able to move it. But now I know even if I have to do everything myself it can and will be done soon.

    I should be clear I am only talking about the clear up the junk stage being done. The property is now almost at a stage where I can start to do the regular work like pruning, clearing paths and repairing things. Which is hard work but at least it’s a different type of work.

    I might even get away with only wearing out one more pair of gloves on the clean up stage.

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  • Blaming Nonexistent Tools…

    Small jobs that I don’t have the correct tools for are the worst, because I know I could do the damn job in 5 minutes with the right doohickey. However when I turn up at the hardware store asking for a doohickey they just laugh at me.

    I’m two weeks behind on building a bathroom wall because I needed to borrow a multitool to cut away floor from around a wall and joist. I had to borrow it because I am tired of spending money on tools that get used once.

    I’m now not sure it was the right tool and I think a sharp chisel and some patience would have gotten the job done. I decided to make my life difficult by not just cutting out a square around the rotten floor. Instead I decided to make myself suffer through an unforgiving game of wood Tetris.

    If I wasn’t seeking personal growth I would be out there tomorrow cutting out a whole new square section, but I am trying to just get the job done. I am reminding myself that this entire patch will be underneath a wall and it is more than strong enough to support that. I am also pretty sure most people would not have bothered removing the section in the first place as it wasn’t that bad and structurally it wasn’t going to do anything.

    Another upside of doing such an ugly patch is that I now have to build a wall over it as soon as possible so I can’t see it anymore.

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