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Monday, September 24, 2012

year one

Today marks the one year anniversary of our occupation of this here house. I try to remain optimistic about the magnitude of the commitment. In a mere 24 years more we will have paid Nedbank every cent we owe its greedy green a$$.

Well, in truth, I listen to this. It really makes me feel better. Let me know if it helps for you too - it'll help me feel less weird.

Also this.

I got up at 7:00 this morning so that we’d have enough time to take a bath and head over to the Antique Faire I mentioned yesterday. On the way I had to return two DVDs we rented from Mr Video - due by 9:00am sharp. Last time, the bastards charged us an extra day for being late by a few minutes.

Interested in our choice of films? Well, there was a very limited selection available when I got to the small shop after work and I ended up taking Another Earth and The Hunger Games. Both, I’m afraid, rather poopy and disappointing -just about paint-by-numbers.

Unable to wake The One at when I got up, I aimlessly pottered about for a while and then got back into bed out of boredom. I couldn’t go back to sleep so I heard the garbage truck coming a mile away - Monday is Garbage Day in Ekklesia. With a single word I summoned The One from the mirthful dreams in which he lay grunting: “DUSTBIN”. He was instantly awake; like a zombie he had one goal in his muddled mind: Get The Bin Emptied. We dashed out; he opened the gate while I got the plastic contraption on its wheels and outside.

Earlier when I checked I hadn't spotted anyone else’s bins in the deserted street. I didn’t want to look stupid, dragging our overflowing and reeking bin out if they all knew something I didn’t. I had nothing to worry about because we were joined by a swarm of neighbours as soon as the truck drove into our cul-de-sac. Hung over, half dressed and wild-haired we dragged our smelly bins into the street in unison, praying that we’d catch the truck in time and that no one was watching.

They needn't have been concerned about me; I'd left my glasses inside and could hardly see my nose. Besides, The One and I were exhausted after going to bed late the night before. Lets just say that around 2:00am we got rid of something that's been bothering us.

So started September 24 which also happens to be a South African public holiday, officially known as Heritage Day. We locals prefer the title National Braai Day; it gives us a legitimate excuse to cook slabs of meat outside on bare coals like barbarians while consuming as many heady drinks as possible. I confess that I will be eternally grateful that the ritual of braaing is part of my heritage.


After handing the two DVDs back to a pimply teen at the video shop, I groggily started finding the way back home through the chirpy crowds. With long, unkempt wisps of hair blowing across my face I barely noticed the barber shop in the centre was open when I drove past it. As soon as I realised that help was at hand I parked and assailed the attendant with my locks. She had a hard time but proved worthy to the challenge and had me all shaven and shorn in short order. Six months of hoarding keratin all down the tubes.

Later, The Fortunes favoured us and thanks to the excellent prices and quality available at Uitkyk Vleismark we had some decent offerings for the solemn ritual with which we observe Braai Day: four Spicy Beef Rashers (thought they were pork when I got them), a beautiful Lemon & Herb Chicken Flattie at R27.00 ($8.27) a kilo and a pound of first-class Voortrekker Wors.

I guess we never made it to that Antique Faire.

Anyway, happy Braai Day, South Africa.

Written by I