Still not dead, just flaky. I really really should remember to write something every day, or at least every second day, or even just a few words in a notepad file, even if I don't post them live. Coz the more time that slips away, the harder it is to pick up the thread. I have too many sites. I know that. I have too many sites, projects, assorted whatevers, and I'm good at not finishing what I start, rather than the other way around.

It's a lovely day. I've got washing soaking in the machine, and I'm sitting here with the heater on, trying to keep an eye on the clock, coz I really gotta go out and do stuff today, and not just sit here fermenting.

I may get older but I'll never "mature". Vis a vis "ferment". Eh.

According to the Oxford English Corpus, a database of a billion words, dozens of traditional phrases are now more commonly misspelled than rendered correctly in written English.

This has been going on for years. I think I first noticed it in 1998 - "could care less" rather than "couldn't care less"; although, in that case, either makes some kind of sense.

Other examples of common mistakes include "slight of hand" instead of "sleight"; "phased by" when it should be "fazed by"; "butt naked" instead of the correct "buck naked" and "vocal chords" for "vocal cords."

Personally I really loathe and abhor "phased" when it should be "fazed". Especially when I see it in official print, like a magazine, or an online edition of a serious newspaper. It's all illiteracy, imo. I had hoped that the internet would force literacy on a careless, thoughtless generation, but I was wrong. (Yes, I sound like I'm 60something. I can't help it.)

Oh, article here.

Humans will never be completely fluent in Rabbit. Rabbits talk to each other constantly, not so much with sounds as with movements. There are large movements such as dancing and grooming, and there are quite small communications of breath and slight shifts in position. You can sense some of this quiet conversation by lying on the floor beside two talkative rabbits.

I've had bunnies on the brain lately, I don't know why. I keep dreaming about them - that I've got lots that I'm meant to be looking after (for a friend??) but they keep getting away and causing me anxiety. I used to have similar dreams about mice, actually, but that was when I was living in a building that was near a schoolyard that had a well-known problem with wild mice. So, er, bunnies. Boing boing. Bunnies are cute. Yeah.

Friday night I confessed to the boyfriend my apparent obsession with bunnies. I expected him to see it as some kind of ulterior take on "the fertility thing", which I'm sure it's not (yes, I do want to have kids someday, but definitely not right now!). To my surprise he said, "You need a pet. You need something to love you unconditionally when I'm not around." This has to do with my lack of obvious self-esteem (lack of compared to his, which is sometimes overdone, although usually in an endearing way). I expressed doubt. I expressed concern - that I'm not sure of my ability to care for an animal in the right way (not to mention that I can't afford sudden vet trips and the like). I still have doubts but he mostly talked me into agreeing to get a pet, and it will be "our" pet although living with me, and he will cover the expenses I can't manage.

So on Saturday we went to a couple of pet shops. I know that what I really want is a dog, but given my physical condition that would be insane, selfish (unfair to the dog), reckless, etc etc (because some days I literally cannot walk, can only crawl around on the floor, which is humiliating enough by itself, without getting the guilts because I'm meant to be walking the dog). So maybe a cat? Yes and no. I like that a cat will be fairly independent, but I don't like that a cat may be so independent it only turns up to be fed. Also worrying about it getting run over as my building is less than a block from two very busy roads.

We both liked the mice, but ultimately he decided they weren't "hands on" enough, because it was too easy for them to escape from our hands (or run down his sleeve, and he's extremely ticklish), and they bit us as well (having kept mice in childhood I know they need to be socialised with humans, but this takes a while and some patience, and they may yet escape in the meantime). We looked at rats too, but could only find males or full-grown females jaded from being too long in the shop. He was a bit squeamish about the male rats, and my main reservation about male anything is that it will scent-mark and be generally stinky. Still, if I managed to find somewhere with young female rats I would be very interested in a pair, or maybe a trio.

Also looked at guinea pigs, and, yes, rabbits. And ferrets. Though ferrets are very bitey and would need a lot of socialisation (and I hate to think what damage they could do if they got under my bed). I like the guinea pigs at this stage. I held two, one in each of the shops we went to which had them. One was very dark brown and full-grown, and really just sat in my arms and looked around and sniffed. The other was a young male, white and tan, and kept wanting to burrow into my armpit. Very cute.

So... I don't know yet. We might get organised enough to find some breeders (guinea pig and/or rabbit) next weekend.

I dreamed about my ex last night. I'm pretty sure I've dreamed about him several times recently, but I don't remember the details. In last night's dream, he was sitting with his back to me, shirtless, his head tipped slightly forward. I hugged his shoulders from behind, with my right arm around under his chin, just loosely. On reflection, I know it was meant to be my ex, but the skintone and amount of body fuzz on the back of the neck indicates my current guy.

The last face-to-face convo I had with my ex, he was so nasty I fled in tears. He hadn't been so deliberately vicious for 5 months. He was quite good at being unkind without thinking about it. (I stuck with him much longer than I should have because I loved him in a genuinely deep but addicted sort of way, and he occasionally made the minimum effort required to make me feel like we still had a future.) He rang me a few hours later to apologise. I knew someone would have talked him into doing so but didn't let on to him I knew it wasn't his own conscience acting. A week after our second-last conversation, he was dead.

We had kinda broken up before he died, on my instigation. I never thought I would do that, but the bottom line was I'd had enough of his lies and manipulations. We had a civilised conversation in which I told him I still loved him, probably always would, but he'd let me down too often, had taken advantage too often, and I had decided that I deserved better. He didn't rave at me, just held my hand and said he understood.

When I first tentatively admitted to myself that I couldn't stay with him I had absolutely no idea he was sick. I didn't know he'd need to be hospitalised the week after I told him I wanted out. Thus, when he rang me a few days later to describe his panic attacks, I felt he was attention-seeking, trying to make me uber-guilty, etc. I talked him through the first time, explained that with him being on new medication there would be a "settling in" period, that he'd have some side-effects, probably feel rather vile, and the best thing to do was stay home, in a safe and familiar environment, and ride it out. Patience, I said, was the key. He rang back almost immediately. I'd already put my phone on vibrate and ignored it. Like, what did I have voicemail for anyway?

The next day I learned he'd been so freaked he'd gone to emergency. Not being able to get me, he'd called my predecessor, who somehow still felt enough loyalty (or perhaps compassion) to go sit with him in the ward and ask intelligent questions of the staff. They sent him home after 12 hours, with pretty much the same advice I had given him, but a few days later again, he was admitted, and when I went to visit I was shocked at which ward he was in, and absolutely floored to learn that he was terminally ill and would have known for at least 6 months that he was going to die. He hadn't told anyone.

Naturally I felt pretty shitty, having told him we were splitsville just the week before he went to hospital to die. On the other hand, he'd known he was terminal and didn't tell anyone. If he'd wanted my sympathy, why didn't he tell me? Sure, I'd have been suspicious that it was another of his outrageous lies, but he would only need to produce a couple of his medical reports to convince me. Why didn't he do that? I will never know, because he didn't choose to tell me before he died.

That I'm still dreaming about him means I do miss him in some way, emotionally. It was very strange, right after he died, that I didn't have huge outpourings of grief. Or maybe I did all that in the 3 weeks he spent in hospital before expiring (I did cry a lot during that time). Maybe I was all cried out by the time he died.

So we had our last conversation on the phone, when he rang to apologise. I visited two days later but he was asleep. Three days later he was in a coma. I sat with him for a couple of hours (I don't think he was aware of anything by that stage). Two days later I had a call from my predecessor, telling me it was all over. She was way upset, but I didn't seem to feel anything. I went on not feeling anything for a long time, although I dreamed about him a lot.

With most people I dream about that I used to know, if they're dead IRL in the dream I don't usually know they're dead. With the ex, sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. In a lot of my earlier dreams about him he would be saying something like, "I am dead but I have this special arrangement with the phone company so I can email people," Which was just weird, but made sense at the time (as dreams are wont to do). Which is reminiscent of the closing words of The Secret History by Donna Tartt, where the narrative character relates a dream he had where the former friend says he isn't dead, just "having trouble with his passport". Though, I hadn't read this book before my ex died, so it's not like my dreams of him are influenced by the sequence at the end of the novel.

I think I need to stop now.

To understand rabbit behavior, try to think like a rabbit. Remember that as a prey species, a rabbit is naturally more shy and wary than a predatory dog or cat. It will be up to you, the adaptable human, to compromise and alter your own behavior so that the bunny understands you are a friend. Once you have done this, you will have won the unending love and loyalty of a most amazing creature...

Imagine what the world looks like to this bunny. She's surrounded by a new environment, and there's a big, strange-smelling animal that's always looming over her. She has no idea you're trying to be friendly. Her "hard wiring" tells her: "AAAAAAAAGH!!! It's going to EAT ME!" Imagine yourself in her bunny slippers: No one speaks her language, she has been taken from her family, has no one of her own species to comfort her, and she has no idea whether you plan to love her, cage her forever, or have her for dinner! You must gradually and patiently earn her trust.

Bunnies are complicated. I'm swinging back towards guinea pigs.

I'm wanting carbs. I'm craving bread, white bread, with generous amounts of my favourite margerine (I cook with butter, I spread marge; obeying my taste buds, is all). This happened yesterday, and the day before. A few times recently I've also wanted to pop outside for a ciggie. I could, technically, do that, because I still have some in a drawer somewhere, but I know it would taste disgusting and the comfort I'm seeking would not be obtained. Just a few times, I've had that familiar feeling, that it's time for a ciggie. But I can't do that.

I usually have bread in the house, whatever else I don't have, but due to the bills getting the better of me yet again I have no bread and no cereals, only fresh fruit and a small chunk of cheese. There is pasta in the cupboard along with a couple of tins of sliced pears. I have nothing else other than teabags, instant coffee, artificial sweetener, a tiny bit of milk, and assorted condiments (mostly in the fridge). And this has to last me til Monday.

I have nine dollars and fifty cents in my purse. I have a health-related appointment on Friday that will consume $5.60 of that for bus fare, leaving me with $3.90 for everything else, til Monday. Knowing my luck, til late Monday afternoon. I definitely can't afford to buy any bread before then. Grrrr.

Friday already. Argh. I have to be somewhere at 11am, and I don't know how long my appointment will take. When I get back I've got to do a massive cleanup in the lounge room. And wash a week's worth of crockery (I'm lazy, or something). Cuz the boyfriend says he has a surprise for me, so he's coming over whether I like it or not (not that I don't want to see him, but I loathe "entertaining", no matter how much I like my guest/s). I sincerely hope he hasn't gone ahead and bought me a pet. Specifically, I sincerely hope he hasn't gone ahead and bought me a rabbit (or two), because much as I like the way they look and allegedly behave, after much reading I must conclude they are too complicated an animal for me to look after successfully. I have no confidence in my ability to care for a rabbit in the long term (and they live 6+ years, not as long as the average cat or dog but much longer than the average small rodent). If he's done it, let it please be a guinea pig or rats or mice. Argh.

"During breakfast the other day," writes Paul Massey, of Northbridge, "our six-year-old son, Lachlan, decided to make himself some toast. Grabbing a piece of bread, and on the point of placing it in the toaster, he said to his mother, 'Mum, how do I put the bread in - landscape or portrait?"'

Heheh. Truly witty.

"While wandering around the Australian Museum recently," writes Greg Loder, of Springwood, "I came across the skeleton of a very large dinosaur. Impressive display, but to my surprise as I peered upwards the dinosaur was wearing what looks like a pearl necklace. Is this our very own version of the Da Vinci code?" Greg, this is Sydney. A giant Darlinghurst reptile can wear whatever it likes.

Hrm. Somewhat mysterious. Giggle.

Column 8

So the boyfriend swings by Friday, after work. He texted me as he was getting off the bus, so I was waiting with the door open a crack, peering out. He was carrying a pizza. No cage or bulge in his shirt big enough to be a guinea pig. Phew. But, wait.... "Is there a mouse in your pocket?" I said nervously, trying to sound flirty. "No, I'm just pleased to see you, har har!" he replied, then decided to be insulted that I'd said mouse and not boa constrictor (not unlike the tampon ad where the guy in the supermarket sneers at minis). I pointed to the pizza and said, "Is that my surprise?" He rolled his eyes and pretended he was going to eat it all himself, so I let him in.

He said the pizza was not the aforementioned surprise, but he figured he should feed me since he hadn't shaved. So we ate, getting crumbs all over the place (the lounge room is never clean for more than a day at a time), because we're too piggy to use plates. On learning I had no beer he insisted on going out to get some. I wasn't in the mood for drunken antics but I know he's in the habit of a beer after work on Fridays so I didn't object very loudly.

So he came back with beer for himself, cider for me (he's a good boy!) and a half bottle of fizzy wine. "What's that for?" I said, frowning. "It was on special, I thought we might try it." he said. "Hrm." said I, feeling inadequate because I don't have any proper glasses for that kind of thing. "Let's watch a movie!" he said, digging two DVDs out of the inner pocket of his jacket. I looked at him as strangely as I could manage but he carried on regardless. Thus I knew something was up. "What?" I said, blinking and trying to look like a cute anime creature. "Nothing." he said. He'd put Two Hands and Amelie on the table, and I chose the latter. He was exaggerating every movement, making little flourishes with his hands.

"Look," I said, trying to sound rational and sane. "If you've arranged for someone to deliver a box of rabbits later, you'd better tell me now." "What do we need rabbits for? Wasn't the pizza enough?" he said, sticking his tongue out at me (grrr). "But don't you want fluffy bunnies? I thought you wanted bunnies?" he said, sounding hurt. "I did want fluffy bunnies but I don't think I can take care of them properly." He looked worried. "I'm thinking a guinea pig or rats or mice." I added. "Look, did you or did you not buy me pets already?" I said. "Would I do that to you?" he said, looking innocent and hurt again. "Yes, you would if you thought it would make me happy," I said. "But what makes me happy isn't always the right thing to do. As I keep telling you." "But I like making you happy!" "What I want isn't always what's good for me." and so on.

Finally he said we should watch the movie, relax, drink a bit, and he would tell me about the surprise after, and he promised it did not involve any animals. So we did that, although I fell asleep towards the end (I have seen it before), because I was stressed and tipsy and he's like a big warm beanbag to lean against (hee hee). Like, snuggle...

The surprise is that his parents want us to get married and will pay for it. Which means his parents want us to get married in a church, me in a white dress (I'm not a dress kinda girl, these days... army pants and combat boots, please), with 300 of our closest friends... and there I am thinking, "Oh god, I only know four people I can invite!" Not to mention neither of us is religious (in fact, his parents aren't either), and... argh.