Sunday morning.

First sent to Dave as an email...

9.21am. Grandma: "Wake up, Vanessa (my aunt) will be here this morning and you'll need to be dressed." Lift up covers and realise I'm still dressed from yesterday and my jeans are cutting off the circulation to my legs. Go back to sleep.

9.34am. Grandma: "You aren't up yet." Me: "I've only had 8 and a half hours sleep." "Get up, they'll be here soon."

9.36am. Phone rings. Vanessa has cold. Won't be coming today. I go back to sleep.

9.40am. Grandma: "Can you here that bird call? What is it?" Half-awake, I realise I haven't a clue what it is. Stumble out of bed and out the back door. "You got dressed quickly," says Grandma. Cat follows us out. Lies on my feet. Bird calls again. No idea what it is. Now furious with myself, I go to the computer to look up MP3s of honeyeaters. Cat follows me. Lies on my feet.

9.48am. Bird calls again. Sounds like it has the flu... Bird flu! Shut door nearest me and the bird.

9.51am. Realise I have to go to the chemist today. Die a little inside. (They frighten me a little.)

9.54am. Do hair. Grandad remarks I look like a pigeon. I think I look like an oriental hooker. Tell Grandad he looks like a koala. He does. Grandad pretends to eat flower arrangment nearest him. "Mal, stop eating my flowers!" yells Grandma, who storms over grumbling.

10.00am. Decide to procrastinate by checking email. "You have holes in your clothes," says Grandad, "and you've put on weight." I wiggle my (apparently) fat arse at him and he leaves for work.