Katsaridaphobia

Katsaridaphobia is a fear of cockroaches. I have this. I used to have it much worse.  Those were the days when my family, being sympathetic to my condition, would considerately give me gifts with cockroach motifs, such as the plastic cereal boxes with applique cockroach decorations, and executed cockroaches would be left about under jars, for me to discover. This desensitisation therapy must have worked because I am relatively calm now, no more squawking, toe curling and running out of the room happens. But last night was a tester. There we were, peacefully reading in bed when The Beast, a cockroach about the size of a mouse flew into the bedroom and landed with a soft thunk on the wall above our heads. David said "Gaah!" and leapt out of bed, by which time it had dropped out of sight. Both emitting girly "eek" and "yuck" noises, we scoured the room, pulled out the bed, peered behind the bedside tables. Nothing. Warily back into bed. Of course it re-emerged when things went quiet, heading for my handbag. Now, one might think one's husband would spring into action at this point, but he was back in bed and feigning sleep.  So I did the deed while he issued directives, such as "That's enough, you got it" followed by "Spray it! Spray it!" as it ran crazily under the bed. I hauled the bed out, with David in it, and picked the thing up in a tissue.  I think I'm cured.

I used to have a spider phobia, dating from an unfortunate slipper incident when I was 9. But I'm over it.  Call me spiderwoman. I'm happy to relocate 8-legged friends who find themselves in the wrong place. I hate to see them killed.  On Wednesday, when I was on the bus to Sydney, I disturbed a a HUGE huntsman which then ran across the seat back in front of me, scurried about looking for somewhere to hide and ended up decorating the window of the seat behind me. Risky spot. So at the next stop I quietly approached the driver, pointed it out and offered to put it outside. He said "Gaah!" and left the bus. The people in that seat said "Gaah!" and stood in the aisle.  So I picked it up in a tissue and gave huntsman a new home on a garden wall in Raymond Terrace. "Ohh" said the woman behind "and I thought it was going to be boring trip!"

Do you recognize this? It's Pitt Street. I was in Sydney for some weddingy business, and also to buy some exercise pants for Yogalates. Found a great pair but Myer staff amazingly couldn't, in a 15 minute period, manage to process the sale. Couldn't find it on their stock lists, couldn't accept money without scanning it and lost the sale because I simply had to leave it there to catch my train! FFS!

 I'm back at work this week, so Friday night is a proper Friday night. Went to Australis resort nearby for dinner and saw this local musician - Matt Zarb. Asking for requests. Had he heard of Leo Kottke, we enquire? Yeah, wrote a song about Tommy Emmanuel in Kottke style, he says. So he played it, the bare feet thumping out the rolling bluesy rhythms and the beat up old guitar tuned down, slide on his finger. Great it was.

 Marjory smiled and clapped along. Good to see her getting into it.

This weekend David's been doing a bit of this: watching cricket.  Thanks for the headphones, Wim. 

We've been getting in a swim every day.  But not today. Here's the towels and swimmers forlornly dripping on the line.  Good day for eating, though. Brown Dog, Red Robyn and their visiting grandson Harry came for lunch.

The Sun Seeker lounge on the south deck is being a Rain Soaker lounge at present. But it never rains for long in paradise, so tomorrow will be beach weather again. Please?