I am extremely tired.
So tired, that when Tina and I finished dinner last night, I went straight home and went to bed (at 8:00 p.m.), waking briefly at around midnight to have a conversation with Justin the Aussie and then crawling back into bed again until 8:a.m.
So, I missed saying goodbye to Brady, and yet am still exhausted. Goodbye, Brady! :(
My dreams last night were dominated bye a serial killer in the sewers, a pack of wild dogs, an escalator that went far too fast, a medical check-up and a man who wouldn't stop text-messaging me. Somehow, this made up one, semi-coherent dream.
Now, I must return to work. Au reviour.
About Me
- KT
- “I’d like you to come mustering with me,” my boyfriend said. Until I met Jet, I can honestly say that mustering was not something I had seriously contemplated doing. This may, in part, have been due to the fact that I had never heard of it. The first time I heard the term was when Jet, having returned to Australia after romancing me in Canada, informed me that he would be out of touch for a week or so because he had to ‘muster the weaners.’ Further probing revealed that this had nothing to do with hotdogs -- except perhaps in the indirect sense -- but instead meant Jet was going to round up his young cattle and separate them from their mothers. Now, he was planning on going ‘up North’ to do more cattle work in an area of Australia that Google informed me was populated almost entirely by Aborigines and crocodiles. I agreed to come along, although not without some trepidation…
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