Changing camping spots can be as emotionally draining as the death of a close friend.


“Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering-and it’s all over much too soon.”

I am relocating. That is, as an oldie, in officialese, I am changing ‘accommodation,’ like I’ve rolled my swag and am moving from a bush-stick lean-to to a secluded, drier spot under the overpass.

Informing Telstra of the change, leaving and coming dates, and all that goes with these occasions the patronizing, over-matey, please love Telstra (and me) young man seemed taken aback that a geriatric old prick gathered his wits long enough to negotiate the system thus far and carry out an indifferent, run of the mill chore.

He was pleased to tell me of my good fortune, that the unit was plugged and ready for my ADSL connection. I knew when inspecting the place of that availability and was a prime reason for taking such ‘accommodation.’

The young chap marvelled at my reassurance that pushing a plug into a wall socket was within my broad reach of combining a manual movement with a cerebral task. The inquisitive ASIO trainee feared my advanced journey into mental and age retardation would surely have hampered, prevented even, my having the faintest idea on how to pick my nose.

For something like $300, he reminded me, a technician could come around and do the job for me. Far too generous,these consultants/salespersons.

Origin Energy’s move phone number gave me a self-congratulatory five-minute spiel then assured me there was a twenty-minute queue and that I should ring back later in the evening. I slept beyond the 9 PM deadline, putting another job to the irritating ‘later on’ category.

A robber carpet cleaner is scheduled. Main Roads will be informed, so is mail address redirection awaiting and don’t overlook the bank. The Feds have my new gen, so things are getting done without the aid of Telstra-like gratuitous humbugs.

This and real estate crap as well.

Taken on our Goondiwindi tour with first dog.

The move itself is somewhat daunting with more sentimental culling to do; old paperwork and photographs, once important and reverent, fitting, one thought at the time, that it should be kept in perpetual remembrance, like the Holy Grail, but now an encumbrance; a partner’s soft and delicate sleepwear, kept for too long, perhaps. No, not really.

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