Remember when I used to live in a bakery, next door to the Bear and the Buddhists? I lived with my best friend, a very forgiving and patient girl. Anyway she moved to Melbourne and it is for this reason that I am currently slothing around in a very cold lounge room, with the seasoned familiarity that comes from almost eight years of past cohabitation. As my besty left for work, she told me to help myself to whatever, including ingredients to make her some lasagna. And so, while not one but two lasagnas bake, I thought I’d come and say hello.
My flight was an hour delayed, and the entire trip was like being inside a cocktail shaker but without the alcohol. So. Much. Turbulence. Added to this was the high population of kids on the flight. They were pretty good, actually – it was hard to hear anything over the rattle of the plane and the snoring of the fellow next to me. I was pleased to get off the plane when we finally landed, except I couldn’t. I was stuck. I couldn’t pull the leg of my pants away from the seat. It had spent the hour and a half plane trip steadily adhering itself to the gum that someone had stuck there. Fucking awesome. That’s the vast majority of my packing done for, even before I get off the plane.
We’ve had adventures!
Here’s a questionable hot dog place I spotted:
Call me a prude but I wasn’t keen to swallow.
With my beloved in mind, we visited The Block Pop Up Shop:
strolling limping around Melbourne for the day, we decided to take in a doco at Imax. Here is us in our 3d glasses. I forgot the flash though, but you get the idea:
Tonight, while the besty works, I’m off to catch up with the pseudo sister, who is also in Melbourne. We couldn’t work out schedules when we were both in nsw – go figure.
It’s a fleeting visit but I love hanging out with her. Having lived together for so long, missing the besty has been like missing part of myself. But you know what? We pick up exactly where we leave off every time, and the distance is purely physical.