I smell a rat

I’ve been determined to keep Hubris more up to date, but a lot has been going on, and strangely enough typing out words that I don’t even know if people read any more after twenty years has been low on the priority list. But let’s get into it anyway.

rainbow porch
I painted my porch! I achieved something!

There was a restructure at work, and now I am out of a job. I am therefore supposed to be having a very relaxing summer doing not much more than drinking gin in the garden, but most of the time the weather has not been cooperating. Also, there have been rats. Yes, actual literal rats, running around in my kitchen, gnawing through my washing machine hose, gnawing new holes in the wall after my father patched up one hole, taking a whole goddamn bread roll last night, and that’s after the exterminator paid a visit and put down bait stations everywhere. I know I’m a good host and I want my visitors to feel comfortable, but this is ridiculous. Cleaning up mountains of rat shit and crying a lot is not how I wanted to spend my holiday.

Remember how I wrote about a particularly bloody and painful period when I was in Tasmania in June? I think maybe I hadn’t had a proper bleed since then, with my looooooooover’s uterus confusing mine, but when she was hundreds of kilometres away, it finally kicked off and answered the question “why has Joanna been crying every day for the past five days?”. Ouch. It would not be a Hubris update without me talking about chunks though would it? Luckily it’s calmed down to just the very lightest flow because I have many many exciting plans for this cunt right here and while I do whole-heartedly believe you shouldn’t put anything in there if you’re not prepared for what comes out, around my period I also get cramps when I orgasm. YOU ARE A DUMB BODY.

Speaking of bodies that are actually good, I took House of Boom and the lovely Sara on a road trip to Palmerston North to do a pop-up shop at the amazing Snails.

It was 26 degrees and Snails is on the second floor and there was no lift and oh my lorde I’m not sure if I’ve ever been so tired but Sara and Chrisana are amazing and we met many babes who looked amazing and so happy in their Boom and my heart was very full. And so was my parents’ station wagon, in which I tormented Sara by playing the CDs Anji made of the German pop hits records we used to play when we lived in Germany in 1984. I was surprised to still remember so much of them.

After Palmerston North, I decided not to go to New Plymouth where I’d been planning on going, because I didn’t feel like another roadtrip. Instead to get closure from the end of my job, I popped down to Nelson for a couple of nights. My hotel was increeeeeeeedibly twee, built to look like old English cottages with dark beams and bricks and dormer windows, in 2002. The pool in its own brick courtyard was gorgeous though, but also it backed onto the motorway and I was swimming in it at rush hour. Still, the wine tour I booked myself onto the next day was excellent, and Kahurangi was my favourite of the places we went. It was nice too, to get out of my house, to write smut in a hotel room, to ride around in taxis and just get out of my every day.

Christmas was held at BAMJI’s house in Petone. Tom brought far too much cheese along. All I had to do was roast some miso eggplant & spring onions, but I also made Mum a spekkoek to keep my Oma’s traditions alive. I was given books and rainbow socks and lopers and a ticket to L7! 16 year old me is so excited and I must remember to email Penny and suggest she come to Wellington for it.

It seems like I haven’t got to relax very much because I’ve been painting my porch or cleaning up rat shit or moving things around cos I got a new (second hand) fridge, and then my father took my enormous couch apart with a hammer so it would fit into back of my small car to take it to the tip. A new couch and new bed are coming in four weeks. I’ve gone super king, because I’m nearly 40 years old and I’m a home owner and also because you try fitting two fat babes and a good man in a queen on a regular basis and see how you get on. (Wetly, is the answer. Did I mention that it turns out I’m a squirter?)

How am I turning 40? How did that happen?

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