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The worst possible thing that could happen, happened. Twice.

‘Sweet Lord, take me instead.’ I prayed, holding the lifeless carcass in my palm. It looked so small now that it was dead. I could feel a tear wetting my cheek. I held it up to my face, letting my breath gently touch it, giving the warm illusion of life which I closed my eyes and wished to be true.

My wish didn’t come true though, as easy as this thing of beauty was given to the world, it was taken away.

Yesterday, with 7 months of backpacking left, my Ipod broke.  I’m sorry, I’m too upset to say anything more on that.

This was not to be the end of my Job-like suffering though. The story runs thus;

I had a parcel sent out to me from home (thanks mum!) which I have been patiently waiting for since arriving in Melbourne. Tapping my fingers, tap, tap, tap, drumming my feet, drum, drum, drum. Growing evermore impatient with the delay in getting my box of necessary goodies; think contact lenses for the next 6 months, think jeans, think clothes that I could wear on a day to day basis because my Asia clothes are fetid and in need of burning. Lauren had a package sent on the same day and got hers within a week of arriving in Melbourne. I got to the 2 week stage and still there was no clue as to the whereabouts of my belongings. Finally, I snapped. Last Friday a bunch of people were going out and, damnit, I wanted in. I went out and spunked 100 much needed dollars on clothes for the night. You’ll never guess what turned up promplty on Saturday morning.

Spent the day at work using highly concentrated hydrochloric acid with no eye protection. Feel lucky to still have vision in both eyes. This stuff smoked when I put it on the floor it was that strong. Thankfully, I remembered to take the protective gloves off before I had a pee.



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