Day 4. Good Luck!

Today is going to be long. REAL long.

After smashing out a couple of overdue articles (sorry Justin), I literally fell into my bed last night - at 9.30pm. It's now 2am and I am awake - WIDE. AWAKE. Fuck you jet lag you prolonged bastard!

Hmmmm... what to do? WRITE!

More articles worked on and the sun is slowly making its way up on the horizon. This situation is so weird. There is movement on the roads in front of me, people walking on the streets, some even jogging. I wish I was hurriedly making my way somewhere with the wind on my face and the sun trying to pierce through my sunglasses. But I can't. I just want to sit outside in the sun. The simple things, huh?

After a call to medicare to update long overdue details, breakfast has been and gone and my daily call to the Victorian Government 1800 hotline is made. I am greeted by a lovely young woman named Paris. We have spoken a few times before and she remembers me and I am eternally grateful to get her cheerful voice and sympathetic ear on the other end of the line. As per usual, no answers can be given, but her kindness and dedication in trying to help me leaves me feeling valued and I am pretty sure she is doing her best to help me.

It's been so long since I have watched Australian TV and as I flick through the channels desperately trying to find something that will engage me and subdue my boredom, I come across a made for TV film on the origins of the smash it 90's TV series, Melrose Place. It was so bad that it was good. Well, not really actually, but it took my mind off things, even if just for 90 minutes.

The phone starts ringing and my heart races with excitement! I hurriedly answer it, grabbing my shopping list preparing to read it and place that order. Sadly, it was a psychologist calling to see how I am doing. Elaine was her name and the conversation was nice, relatively unproductive, but nice none the less. Within 30 minutes of hanging up the phone call from Elaine, the phone starts ringing again!

I answer it thinking "this time its definitely Woolies." Nope. Instead I am greeted by a chirpy Irish accent introducing herself as the local nurse, Yvonne. We chatted for a while and again, the chat was nice and I managed to get a free comb, but as far as my overall needs are concerned, it was mostly unproductive. Like nearly everyone I have spoken to, the call ends with a "Good luck," something that I don't truly understand. Why the fark do I need good luck here? Sigh.

An hour later and I find myself in a trance staring out of my window, gently rocking back and forth and the phone rings again. I laugh and look to the sky, "You better not be fucking with me now big guy," I pick the phone up and I am greeted by a guy named Craig. Sadly, not Woolworths again and I feel like giving up. This time, Craig, an incredibly slow speaker, explains he is from the Victorian Government and wants to know if he can help with anything. I give him my list and in turn he gives me the incorrect date that I arrived at the hotel and calls me "John." Feeling incredibly confident, NOT.

We discuss things and I honestly don't think he understood a thing I said. I could hear him making notes, I am not sure what of, maybe he was drawing circles? Who knows. Either way, the call ended and I decided to call the 1800 number again to express my concern. It fell on deaf ears so I gave up and moved back to my bed with remote firmly in hand.

Nobody seems to know anything and I am incredibly concerned.

Another day bites the dust.