The idea of sharing house space with non-rent paying cockroaches fills me with a sensation not unlike having your undies full of warm jelly.

Wednesday, 30 March 1994

Dear S,

I just got back from buying a new mattress.  Leah’s paying me for my half of the old one and I’m moving into the Flemington house on either Thursday night (if I’m feeling as eager as I do now) or on Good Friday, so I’ll need a new one pronto. I got “our Dad” to come in and drive me down to a futon shop in Church Street, Richmond, but he has to come back tomorrow as well because they have to make it up. Brett came along too because he’s still working here in Despatch.  It was a bit of a laugh actually.  Dad asked Mum on Sunday if Brett was gay (in the most indirect manner possible – you can imagine, I’m sure).  Mum told me she said that she supposed not, but I get the feeling that Dad thinks I’ve left Leah for Brett and we’re setting up a love nest in the Flemington house.  He’s so stupid, he assumes that because someone has long hair and earrings and speaks well that they must be gay.  It didn’t help when I was testing the bed out and Brett started sitting on it as well and giving his opinion.  Dad must have thought that he was making sure it would be a suitable love altar for us.  The thought makes me wet myself, Brett is the lustiest person I’ve ever met.  His pursuit of sex (with women) amazes in its fervour and its success.  Poor stupid Dad can’t seem to let go of his outdated ideas about this whole thing.  The fact is that most gay men I know have extremely short hair and so on.  He still keeps a good three feet between him and Brett, though.

It looks like Brett will move into Flemington early, he and Penny are just about to slit each other’s throats.  The Richmond house seems to be falling apart. I was there last night and it is just crawling with cockroaches from Penny’s damn compost heap.  I killed five! Now maybe its just me, but the idea of sharing house space with non-rent paying cockroaches fills me with a sensation not unlike having your undies full of warm jelly.  They’re so disgusting.  I can’t sit still in the house for fear of one crawling over me.  The shower is the worst, I know that eventually one will bungee jump on a spider web into my hair while I’m in my vulnerable, naked state.  If I didn’t have more packing to do tonight I’d be back in “Poo Town” at Mum’s like a shot.  I don’t even want to eat the food or brush my teeth because I just know that they’ve been doing the lambada across my toothbrush and into the pantry.  I could never live in Queensland.  Up there they’re so big people have to put them on leashes.

Apparently Josh called while I was out at lunch and said he’d call back.  I’ll bet he’s heard about Leah and I and wants to know why I haven’t told him yet.  I hope he doesn’t make any noises about him and I moving in together, it would be a bit embarrassing to say no, and then tell him that I’m moving in with Brett.

I’ll write again after Easter.


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