Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Turning into my Mother

We all do it. We hear our mothers whining that they're turning into their mothers, and the fact is we're destined for exactly the same fate.

Every single morning...

This morning I decided that cleaning a backpackers' hostel is no longer good for the soul. For almost a month I've been without a companion to help me - instead of a fun and practical way to start the day it's been a solitary slog from kitchen to bathroom to kitchen to bathroom (in total there are 6 kitchens and 10 bathrooms), picking up strangers' pubes from toilet seats and hefting industrial vacuum cleaners up and down the stairs.

Yesterday I came to the very last kitchen only to be confronted with a pile of breakfast dishes that some lazy sods had decided to just dump on the draining board, right next to the clearly written and laminated sign instructing them to avoid doing exactly that.

"Please take other guests into consideration and wash, dry and put away all the items you use in the kitchen."

I finished my morning chores suppressing a curse and returning to the tranquil, unaffected state that I've learned to live in through meditation.

...every single morning...

When, however, I this morning went to back to the kitchen and found the same pile of used dishes, I exploded. "WHOSE ARE THESE?" I belowed across the hallway to the nearby dormitories. One poor girl was caught in the stream of my wrath: "Um, I think everybody's just been leaving them".

I spent much of the rest of the morning muttering to myself, things like "look at the state of this bath tub, this was spotless yesterday, how on earth have they got it like this?", and "Oh for goodness sake, surely they could have put their own curry boxes in the bin, not left them on the floor".

And that was when I heard it: 'when will you children learn to clear up after yourselves? I'm fed up of tidying up after you all the time. And you're just as bad - what's this? Why are these here? Put it away!'. It had happened. Without even procreating, I had become my poor mother exasperated with her inconsiderate family.

Can you enter 'big kids'?

Run away!

Once the cleaning was finished I took my laptop to the library and booked a flight to Sydney. I will carry on working here but only until Saturday - then I'm packing my bags and heading back to the big city. I've made appointments to view some lovely apartments near the harbour (and, more importantly, near ALDI), and will resume my job hunting in person there. I'm sorry to break my contract with the hostel but I think they've had the benefit of me!

Saturday, December 1, 2012

Appropriate or Not?

Today I have compiled a list of appropriate and inappropriate things from my tiny world in Australia.


Fire Exit

Since moving into this hostel, I've been plagued by the emergency exit sign in my bedroom. Harmless by day, this wired-in non-switch-off-able menace emits a bright green glow that fills every corner of the room with its erie luminations in an effort to prevent any kind of meaninful sleep. My requests to disable it fell on deaf ears: "we legally have to keep it switched on for health and safety".

The best part? It points at a wooden door that's bolted on both sides. A great bet for escaping in the event of fire. Much better than the double patio doors that lead directly outside, just on the other side of the room.

Targeted Advertising

I've been using a popular calorie-counting website to keep track of what I've been eating during my weight loss plan. Of course the website relies on selling advertising space. So what would be an appropriate targeted advert to see on this site, frequented by people trying to lose weight by only eating strictly healthy foods? Perhaps some health-related companies, body-building sites or links to exercise DVDs?

No, this is what I saw when I logged in:

Quality Street and Coca Cola. Just what I want to see.


Remember the Thyme

Yesterday I decided to make a potato, brie and thyme pizza according to this recipe:
I went to the local supermarket to pick up the ingredients and, after having walked up and down each aisle, thought to myself, 'I'm sure there's something I've forgotten'.

I went to queue at the tills. As I stood waiting I noticed the music being played over the the supermarket's sound system: Michael Jackson's 'Remember the Time'. I dashed back to the herb section...

That concludes today's list of appropriate and inappropriate things.