Gosh, I’m so full of exciting news, I could wet my pants.

First up, about that rotting carcass… A couple of staff members had to fish it out of the skip and stick it in a wheelie recycle bin to try and stifle the stench until the police could turn up and tell us if it was human or not. (Turns out it was bigger than a dog, which provoked much speculation between a call to the cops in the morning, and their arrival some time that afternoon.)

As much as I kind of hoped it would be human on the chance the ensuing investigation would grant an afternoon off work, it just turned out to be a cow.

There.  Wasn’t that exciting?  I know, I know, now stop trying to hump my leg.

Now for the next ground breaking news story…

A short while ago, our fridge finally gave up the ghost.  It was to be expected, being that it was old enough to defy carbon dating.  So we forked out $600 from our savings and bought a new fridge (hooray for J’s staff price at NL.  Hooray for savings).

A couple of weeks later, that fridge died, so  they sent out a replacement fridge.

This weekend, that fridge also died.  (We’d only had it a week.)

And in the same weekend, so did the washing machine.

Next it was the vacuum cleaner’s turn to pack it in.  Again same weekend.

Oh, and I spent all of Sunday wrapped around the toilet bowl and begging for death in recovery of whatever terrible thing I ate the night before.

The lesson in this? I had a suck weekend, and household appliances hate me.  That’s right folks, I am not destined to be a house-wifey domestic goddess.  Well, that’s a crying shame.

Oh, did I mention the car cost us $650 when we took it to get serviced - somewhere in between fridge two and fridge three packing it in?

But wait! There’s good news!

I saved a lil’ baby bird on Friday night from the deadly clutches of my feline familiars.  And rather than die of shock in the nest I’d made for it in the bedroom, it actually survived to wake me up chirping the next morning! An incredible tale of survival really, considering it’s make-shift nest was made of the last of J’s clean socks.  (See, even when clean, they can be deadly.  That bird defied all odds.)

Of course, as I was leaving to take little Chirpy Chirp Chirpy-Pants (or whatever Char had named it) to the bird lady, Char’s cat shot inside with a dead blackbird in her mouth.  …Which kind of reverses karma a little, especially when the fledgeling was also a blackbird.  Mummy blackbird perhaps? So umm… I guess we’ll be seeing more lil’ dead blackbirds around sometime soon…

Hmm, I remember a nursery rhyme about blackbirds being bloody tasty in a pie?  Just kidding, I’m no slack-jawed Joe.  Really.  But well, Christmas is just around the corner, and now that the grand old Xmas ham we didn’t have got spoiled in the broken fridge, we gotta eat somethin’. Right? Here kitty kitty…