Cold Houses and Finally Finishing Work

 I take back my comment about the Belair house being warmer.  The Belair house looks warmer because it has cosy things like carpets and lots of heating options - reverse cycle air conditioning, wood fire, gas heater, doors to shut between spaces.

Except the doors have to remain ajar so the cat can get to it's kitty litter.  The ceilings are high, the floors are off the ground, there are large expanses of window, and I suspect a dearth of insulation in all the places where it matters.  Belair is also higher and consistently 4C colder than Hallett Cove, as reported by Roger who has monitored this discrepancy closely.

I went to visit him at Belair and in no time at all I had my puffer jacket and beanie on and was looking for a couch blanket because the cat didn't cut it as a hot water bottle.  It was with great sadness that I had to say goodbye and take myself off to the warmer climes of Hallett Cove where work awaited me.  Yes, work slowly expanded when I wasn't looking and now fills 2.5 days of my week.  This is only temporary of course, just like working remotely was when I started doing it over 12 months ago.

In fact, 12 months and 5 days ago we were in Possum Park, watching the Tour de France highlights every morning in the middle of a mouse plague.  Now we're watching from our respective comfortable couches and while some of us might whinge about the cold we're not in a tent, so there's that. And there's no mice.

That was then.

 

This is now.

 

Speaking of 12 months, the clock ticked over to 1630 last Friday and Roger officially ended 35 (more or less) years with the one employer.  Over the last 12 months the poor man has slogged out a year's worth of long service leave with nary a tappet of work required of him and a regular pay cheque to boot, and last Friday at 1630 the gravy train rolled into the station and tossed him out on the platform to fend for himself.

He looks stressed, doing important things like not spilling coffee on the cat.

 His relationship to paid work has become simple: he likes watching other people do it, and sometimes he brings them cups of coffee while they're doing it.  I've encouraged him to join me in the part-time remote working world, but he doesn't seem all too keen on that.  Maybe I shouldn't have complained so vociferously about having to work indoors while the weather was beautiful outside...

The tide of time waits for no man however, and while Roger has joined the slippery slope of unemployment retirement the Hallett Cove sit has reached its end: all that is left is the usual day spent cleaning and making sure everything is squeaky clean and up to scratch, checking under the bed for last minute presents (AKA rats) left by the cat, and taking myself off to the fridge on the hill otherwise known as Belair.  It's a bit of a shame that it all ends just as the cat has shown signs of acceptance and come to sit on my lap.  Twice!

Then again, he could just have wanted to be warm.

Well.  Now you like me and I have to say goodbye.