Hall of Helmets

Unlike the careers of anyone who appeared in Scandal’us, I’m not dead! We were in the process of moving house, so I was sans internet for a while.

Adam organised the removals process while I was at work this week, so he began unpacking and orchestrating a redefinition of what can reasonably be hung on a wall as “art”. When I arrived home to the new house, I was greeted with an array of his bicycle helmets hanging from every hook in our narrow hallway.

It’s not just that the display looks bizarre, but that I’m blind in my right eye. This makes it difficult to judge the proximity of things about to smash into the right side of my face (usually wayward tennis balls or footballs veering off course at high velocity). Now, every time I travel down the hallway, there’s this bizarre helmet-based anxiety that I’m about to mash my face against hard plastic. Do we have a name for this phobia yet? Because I demand one! Immediately!

Of course, this problem paled in comparison when we closed a bedroom door and it sneeringly locked with a disarming clunk. Adam and I glanced worriedly at each other, then realised we didn’t have a key to that room provided by our real estate agent. In fact, we didn’t even realise it was lockable in the first place. A few terse phone calls to our agent later, and it eventuated that our prior tenants were engaging in some dodgy sub-letting.

In the meantime, we had no access to this room. This lead to me creating all sorts of “what if?!” worst case scenarios, mostly involving me being locked out of the bedroom in my jocks with no access to my wardrobe. Adam, meanwhile, had no access to all his bikes which were stored in the room. He is a bit of a bike nut, and loves riding to work… judging by the look on his face, getting public transport to work that day was worse than having testicular cancer.

Of course, there are plenty of upsides to our new location. We’re within strolling distance of my favourite thai take-away in the suburb, which Adam inexplicably abhors. I reckon they have this unique way of cooking their meals that doesn’t make them oily or greasy; whereas Adam has placed them on his personal ban list for being too bland.

You can imagine my delight when I noticed they were running a contest if you joined their mailing list: a $250 “VIP dinner for two”. Considering most menu items are around $10, I’m assuming the majority of that prize value amounts to plonk. I’m secretly hoping I win this contest, because Adam can’t exactly turn down a free meal; but will be angrily conflicted about eating there at all. (Yes, I spend my spare time plotting ways to torment my boyfriend).

It’s also become clear that my absence from all things fitness is not benefiting me in any way whatsoever. We visited the beach with some mates after work this week, and observed a nearby dog in the water… it suddenly struck us that German Shepherds and water polo players swim in the exact same manic, wild-eyed thrashing style. While attempting to demonstrate this, I pulled a muscle in my leg and almost drowned in shallow water. Back to the gym for me.

Tagged as: Adam, Blindness, Dogs, Fitness, Food, Moving Home