122 days…

Today, I was the bug.

One of those days when you just know that nothing will go your way…..that you’ll be squashed by the oncoming windscreen.

You see, I tried to sort out more paperwork that I Shouldn’t Have To Do because you should still be alive.

I tried to close your account – you know the one with a few hundred dollars in it that you kept in the mistaken belief that it was emergency money if I died and the joint account was locked?  Turns out that they don’t lock a joint account, but just try getting money from an account that isn’t yours.

The lady at the bank was understanding, but because we stupidly put your parents on your will as co-executors and your bloody brother still hasn’t sent me their death certificates, I can’t follow through on this because I can’t prove that they are dead and therefore can’t co-sign as executors.

Nor will I be able to finalise the superannuation when I see the financial planner in two weeks time UNLESS your bloody brother sends me the bloody certificates.

I hope he is just being a lazy turd … sorry … that he’s just not *prioritised* sending me the certificates …. maybe he thinks if I don’t have the death certificates, he will inherit the farm.


I hate this paperwork shit.

Then I went to refill H’s medication  at the chemist and was told that the capsules are no longer on PBS, and I had to get tablets next time. Fuck PBS – don’t they understand that 5-year-olds can’t swallow tablets but you can break open a capsule and they can eat the “stuff” inside.


Then I got a reply from freetv AUstralia who are a bunch of busted arseholes and can’t tell a Request from a Complaint and need a formalised document to do anything.  Bastards.  All I want to do is ask the news directors at Channels 7 and 9 NOT to use your crash footage to illustrate any future stories.  Not a  complaint: A  Request.



We are meant to be spending a night up the coast tomorrow.  Are you surprised to hear that I don’t want to go?  I hate driving on the highway, and now my Dad has me convinced that my car will break down or I’ll blow a tyre on the way there. With my luck, I expect problems.

Save time – Just shoot me now.

Seriously – I think karma has marked me out for a damn good flogging and every time I think that it can’t get worse, I just slip that little bit deeper into hell.

I’m sick of this shit.

I used to be such an optimist.

Then again, I used to be happy and it’s easy to be an optimist when you are happy.

I’m not happy.  I can’t remember being happy. That was another girl who was happy.  Not me.

God I miss you.