Rollercoaster

I am completely and utterly relieved. My friends and family are all safe. Some property is still in doubt, but the irreplaceable is safe.

I am overwhelmed by the scale of the destruction. Places I have loved are now all gone. Other places I love are still under threat.

I feel a part of my heart breaking when I hear the burnt out ask people not to donate fridges and microwaves. "The thought is nice, but it reminds me I have nowhere to put them". My heart breaks again when I hear an appeal for suits so that people have something to wear to the funerals.

I hope that those who started these fires have enough flames when they burn in hell.

I want to give, and give, and give to this appeal

Your roots are showing

So, it's been a bit hot here. 113 in the shade kinda hot (yes Jelly, I know, but 45 doesn't look anywhere near as impressive). We've all been suffering severe meltification.

So I'm driving home from work last Wednesday. Revelling in the airconditioning and being thankful for it. Seriously contemplating sleeping in the car, just to stay cool.

Pop. Hissssssssssssssssssssssssss. Temperature gauge went hotter than hell. Steam and fluid everywhere. Luckily I've already put my indicator on, and I nursed it around the corner out of traffic.

Thank goodness for my mum. She lent me her car to get through the saga of tow trucks, service calls and mechanics.

So Friday is hotly hideous. Or hideously hot. One of the two. Meltilicious. I'm finishing up at work on Friday night about 6.45. Yes, I know. But I'd done 3 performance reviews and I wanted to get them all documented. The lights went out. The airconditioning went off. I said a word that my mother would wash my mouth out with soap for using.

Did I mention I work on the 18th floor now? Possibly not the best day to be wearing heels. Walking time. Down the 18 floors I trot, regretting all the while that my water bottle had just been picked up in the recycling collection. Down 2 more floors to the second level of the carpark.

No car key.

More mouth washable words. I'm not walking back up those stairs even if security will let me. I really hope Mum has a spare key for her car. Yes, she does. Time to trek 3 blocks to get a tram to Mums. Stupid heels. Not made for standing 45 minutes at the stop, or standing up for the whole hour home.

Made it home. No further incident. 3 hours late.

Saturday morning. Can't find the spare key. I know I put it somewhere safe so I'd know where it was. Frantically running around searching. No joy. My brother goes outside to help. Finds Friday's missing key on the front windscreen under the wiper. Guess I dropped it in the carpark and couldn't see it in the dark. Bother.

Feeling kinda stupid. Wonder if people had the same problem with horses.