todayiamadaisy | Is water dry?

(Finally, some good advice from these old ads.)

It was a warm weekend, a last gasp of summer before autumn sets in. Saturday was quite the occasion here: we decided to get takeaway from one of the many restaurants that have turned themselves into takeaway shops. I drove to pick it up, pleased to be out in the balmy boronia air, noting the well-spaced queues outside the fish and chipperies and pizza places I passed. I waited in the car until they texted me that the order was ready to pick up; meanwhile one of the waiters was flat out running bags of food out to taxies for delivery. (Or to eat themselves, I suppose, but there was such a steady stream of taxies I assumed it was a delivery thing.) Once I got inside, the restaurant was empty of tables, with Xs taped on the polished wood floorboards to show where to stand, and its long galley kitchen was protected by glass panels, with just a small cut-out for them to slide the bag through.

Sunday was the weekly shop. The first thing I noticed at the shopping centre was that two of the entrances were boarded up and covered with orange plastic. Nothing to do with coronavirus, it turned out: someone had rammed a stolen SUV through one entrance the night before, driven around the empty shopping centre, then rammed out through another door. As you do. Inside the supermarket: the toilet paper aisle was nearly full, but there was no flour, sugar (except coconut sugar) or hand wash. The ubiquitous Xs are taped on the floor, and you now have to pack your own bags.

Monday, I had to make an unexpected trip out. I had organised to go into work on Tuesday evening to do the month end reports and rollover, because doing them on one tiny laptop screen would be a pain. On Monday, though, the IT department let me know they had organised a second monitor for me and left it on my desk. I went in and picked it up. A ghost office with bottles of hand sanitiser at every door. I could hear someone talking in an office somewhere, but I didn't see anyone — except the Mayor, who was parking his silver sports car out the front of the building when I left carrying my monitor under my arm.

Which meant I didn't have to go in on Tuesday, and could do the month end rollover from the comfort of my own home. The month end rollover is my special, scary job. My first month, I did it supervised by my predecessor, the week before she went on maternity leave; last month, I did it alone, but my boss stayed in the office so I could get help if necessary; Tuesday was my first time solo. It went well. I treated myself to a chocolate mini-egg by way of celebration.

What else? At some point during the week I used up the last of our rhubarb to make white chocolate and rhubarb jam drop biscuits; well worth it, because they were good. The council organises free flu vaccinations for all employees who want one, so I booked in for that next week. And that's about all.