Fire, fur, feathers

7

It’s impossible to describe the shellshock of anyone affected by the bushfires, assisting on site or seeing the ongoing horrors on the news.

The Red Cross, Salvation Army and local organisations and individuals are giving an incredible amount of themselves to those who have lost lives, communities and possessions.

I’m hunting around for animal welfare organisations and an excellent start is Wildlife Victoria if you can spare a few dollars. The Victorian Dog Rescue Group is assisting with support and foster homes for dogs, cats, goats, guinea pigs and other domestic animals. I’ve heard local vets have banded together in areas such as Whittlesea to care for animals that cannot be kept with their owners at the relief centres and I’ll link if I can find some information.

10 February 2009

A little act of kindness

3

Anyone reading this in Melbourne will be nodding their heads wearily when I describe my current mood as dog tired, drained to almost empty, ankles and brain fluid swollen and only having the energy to snap irrationally at people for the most trifling reasons. I think the Premier of Victoria warned us to stay indoors today not only out of bushfire risk, but because we’re all about to rip each other new arseholes for not saying please and thank you.

I just want this weather to fuck the hell off in exchange for a day’s rain, just one day to remember the smell of water and to wash a layer of the baked-on dust from every car, building and what’s left of the foliage.

I met a friend for a drink last night and the drive to the hotel got hotter and more tense on the sizzling skidpan of the freeway. By the time I arrived I was layered in five coats of dried sweat and regretted leaving the relative sanctity of the darkened house.

The soft drinks out of the squeezy nozzles at the bar are too sweet for my taste and after guzzling some water I ordered a glass of dry white wine. The bloody drink took forever when the bartender disappeared around the corner without warning. Where the hell is my drink, huh, huh? You’d better not be serving someone else! He eventually returned, swirling a glass full of ice cubes and said the glasses were too warm and he wanted to chill one so my drink was cold. How quickly did I get the guilts and want to give him a sweaty bear hug?

Crank-o-meter: fuck off summer

7 February 2009

The grateful whinger

0

I was skimming the news this morning and read that our Prime Minister wants 2.7 million house ceilings insulated to boost the economy. The scheme will cost billions of dollars to reduce each household’s electricity bill by about $200 a year (crap, I forgot to bookmark the story and it’s gone).

I don’t object to the concept in principle because I think all properties should have insulation, fresh and reclaimed water sources, solar energy where possible and fewer bloody televisions. But, apart from wondering how properties will be selected and if people unemployed from flailing industries such as the automotive sector will be trained and paid to do the work, I always seem to miss out when the government loosens its purse strings.

First home buyer’s grant? Missed it by that much. Baby bonus? Not unless I can claim the dogs (might have to re-name them James and Emily because Schnaggles and Buffy Crankypants won’t get through, I imagine). Tank rebate? No. Solar rebate? Can’t afford to buy what I need to receive a rebate. Free water-efficient shower head? Bought one years ago. Medicare and Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme? My Medicare levy is more than quadruple what I claim.

I hate how I get angry and righteous and complain my arse off, and then realise how fortunate I am that I have the ability to work, pay tax and live in a country that can afford to fund crazy follies that distract the media and populace from problems such as foreign debt.

I’m getting a $48 tax refund this year: I might buy a bag of insul-fluff and re-top my ceiling insulation. If I’m lucky I’ll have enough change for a dust mask.

Crank-o-meter: whatever

3 February 2009