Farting My ABCs: Chapter 1
A long, long time ago (before I had kids!) I wrote a 7000-word story called Farting My ABCs. It is fifteen chapters long, and I’ll release one chapter a day to help carry bored kids all the way through the school holidays.
Warning: This may cause your five year-old to make more fart jokes than ever. Also most kids older than five will find it terribly immature (Louisette certainly did).
A lot of authors (and readers) have been reading books aloud lately, and I decided to do one better. Instead of merely reading this book, I read it to my kids. Instead of filming me, I filmed them. I also selected a variety of real backgrounds (mostly outside) to help all of us remember what trees look like. Zipper showed up some of the time too.
But you’re here for the first Farting My ABCs video, right?
For those who want text, here’s Chapter 1 (or email fellissimo@hotmail.com to get all of it at once):
Spoiler space…
CHAPTER ONE: The Boy Who Talks With His Bum
Oh no. Please, no.
Please tell me the teacher’s not going to make me stand up and introduce myself to everyone. I’ve already done it in maths, history, and science.
So here I am in English, and I can feel my gut bubbling. It’s been bubbling all day. Today is my first day at this school – of course I’m nervous. But right now I think my bum is going to explode. Pow! Just like that.
I wish I could open the lid of my desk and crawl inside.
My feet drag me to the whiteboard (my belly gurgles).
The school year started only two weeks ago, and I can still see the teacher’s name – Mrs White – half rubbed out underneath today’s work. I bet no-one else had to stand up in front of everyone like I’m doing. They all know each other, and I don’t.
“Tell us a bit about yourself,” says Mrs White.
I face the class (my belly groans). A girl is giggling from the back row. I still can’t think of anything to say.
One boy is rolling spitballs. I heard someone call him Jack, so I guess that means I’ve learnt something today: the name of the most annoying kid in school. No matter how many times Dad makes me change schools, there’s always one person who hates me right away. I don’t know why. Maybe my big nose just makes people angry. Or my red hair. Or my freckles. Maybe my freckles spell out a rude word. I don’t know.
By now I should be used to this talking thing (my belly grunts and grumbles). But I’m not. In fact, every class is worse than the one before.
“My name is Fred,” I say.
Jack says, “Drop dead, Fred.”
I wish I could (my belly howls and growls).
“Tell us something you’re good at,” says Mrs White.
There’s really only one thing – one amazing thing – that I can do. Whether I want to or not.
After this whole long day, I can’t hold it in any longer. So I stare right at Jack’s cold green eyes – and fart.
I fart the alphabet. I fart my last three addresses. I fart my name and the fact that I have a dog the size of a horse. (Probably should have said that in one of the classes today. Everyone likes dogs.) I fart like a brass band.
The girls laugh. The boys clap. Jack swallows his spitball. Mrs White opens and closes her mouth. She turns purple.
My gut is more amazing than it’s ever been before. (It’s actually very difficult to fart the alphabet – even if it really sounds a bit like, “Arg! Blurk! Sss!” instead of, “A, B, C.”)
Finally Mrs White gets a breath. A big one. She screams: “Principal’s office! Now!”
I run out the door and down the hall with my red hair falling into my eyes and blinding me. With every step, I fart.
Pfft, pfft, pfft.
The Virus Diaries: School/Depression How-To Guide
I’m transitioning now to the massive piles of schoolwork that Louisette and TJ’s extremely hard-working teachers have already prepped. This is week 10 of term 1, so it’s a trial week for the online classrooms that will be serious ‘normal’ school next term.
I’m really loving the mathseeds web site (and by “I” I mean “TJ” who LOVES maths and computer games). You can get a 30 day free trial by clicking through that link.
Today TJ did a “watercolour” picture by scribbling on a freezer bag with texta, then wetting a piece of paper and pressing the texta-marked bag against it. (I had to watch 10 minutes of example videos for that, apparently.) He also made a pattern with hair clips, which was actually really impressive.
Louisette did a writing exercise involving observations of our yard, using as many adjectives as possible. It’s hard as a pro writer to encourage excessive adjectives, but of course one must go through the period of using a bazillion adjectives before you can start cutting back sharply to only the very best.
I have been loudly telling other parents, “DON’T do everything the teachers give you! They are desperately trying to give you a lot of schooling as quickly as possible. But you and your kids will be better off if you’re selective.”
It’s very hard to follow my own advice. But it’s still good advice. Primary kids do NOT need more than 30 minutes of “actual” education per week day. (They do generally need more one-on-one time than that, and if you spend the time doing exercise and/or reading with them, great.) I shall attempt to follow my own advice and skip some of the many many activities prepared for us.
At present Louisette is wearing undies, a hoodie towel, wings, a cat mask, and a tiara.
* * *
I’m still quite badly depressed, although less than yesterday which in turn was less than my worst (yay?).
Things that actually help my depression include:
NB: I am generally fond of my kids and husband, but they are complicated and risky blessings. Sometimes they scream at me (the kids, not Chris), or cause physical (due to fibromyalgia, not abuse) or emotional pain. Yes they can make me feel amazing, but when I’m badly depressed it’s wise to limit contact (especially with the kids) if possible. (Obviously it’s not particularly possible at the moment, but retreating to my room and letting Chris do ALL the kid things on the weekend is helpful, especially if/when they exercise outside of the house.)
1. Chocolate. It’s #1 for a reason. Chocolate is often the thing that gets me out of bed in the morning. It is reliable, more or less harmless (other than the fact I’ll most likely die of something related to diabetes, hopefully not COVID-19) and it has a noticeable effect on my brain chemistry. Every depressed person should have some chocolate on hand to try in an emergency. It works faster than panadol and is more useful for this kind of pain.
2. Good TV (again, risky because there’s a lot of very dark good TV. Comedy is typically helpful, although fat/racist/sexist/etc jokes can strike without warning). I recommend Brooklyn 99, Gilmore Girls, and How I Met Your Mother.
3. Sunshine. When available. Even a few seconds can help. Sunrises and sunsets are well worth noticing.
4. Exercise. Fibromyalgia makes this a lot riskier (exercise often increases pain) but a little bit usually helps. Like 5 gentle (eg walking, swimming, bike riding) minutes.
5. Getting out of my own head. Reading, worshipping God, working/writing—all potentially useful.
6. Sleep, especially naps or sleeping in.
7. Meditation. There are a lot of different kinds to try. The most important thing is to accept that everyone daydreams/gets distracted during meditation so just accept those random thoughts and don’t feel bad that you have them.
8. Water. Drinking water feels good. If I’m feeling fancy, I add ice and/or a reuseable straw.
9. Friends. Listed last because friends can be tricky too. But mostly friends (especially those that aren’t all that close to you, sometimes) are helpful.
10. Be sick. Wallow. Let things slide. Depression is a sickness, and the right response is to lie in bed for a day or two if that’s what your brain is telling you to do.
I hope that helps as a lot of people are in a similar boat to me, brain-wise, at the moment.
Art of the day: The Samurai Kids series by Sandy Fussell. It’s suitable for middle grade, and is a lovely, gentle, funny series (with illustrations). Some of the characters have suffered severely (one of them accidentally killed another child) but the overall feeling of the books is warm and safe. Most of the characters have some kind of physical disability.
TOMORROW I will begin releasing the 15 videos of myself reading Farting My ABCs to my kids.
The Virus Diaries: Blurk
My manic phase is officially over.
I’m left with the problem that was predictable all along: How do I cope with this?
I’m not well enough to mind the kids for a full day.
But I have to mind the kids for a full day, every day. For a long time.
So…. ?
The world turns into plus and minus, resource and problem.
I’m angry all the time. Mostly at Chris for being healthy and sane, and having to go to work (in the study) instead of being at my beck and call 24/7 (or more specifically, at the kids’ beck and call).
Last night was bad. I didn’t get to sleep until 5:30am (that is, when the kids were getting up) and I spent a good chunk of the night terrified God would kill me because I had bad (depressed) thoughts, and another chunk rather hoping that this really was the end of the world because there’s just too much pain in the world and everything is awful.
Today wasn’t great either, but I survived it without screaming at anyone or breaking anything, which is pretty much the goal.
Yay.
I’m bored of my end-of-blog categories, so now I’ll just recommend some art (that is, books and TV) each day.
Art of the day: I watched the film Yesterday last night, about a musician who wakes up one day and the world has completely forgotten (among other things) the Beatles. So he remembers the songs and releases them, becoming a massive star. But what about the gorgeous BFF who was always his biggest fan? It’s written by Richard Curtis, full of gentle humour and Beatles music.
The Virus Diaries: Am I a covidiot?
Seeing people ignoring government guidelines to go have fun on a beach is infuriating. And I’m sooo jealous. There are a lot of people around the world making terrible, life-threatening choices and there is an intense social and legal backlash.
Socially speaking, I recommend not engaging directly with anyone. If you’re certain someone is breaking the law, please call the police and let them decide and/or deal with it. One of the dangers of being disabled is being a target of righteous yet misdirected rage. Every disabled person who’s not actually paralysed from the waist or higher has had someone yell at them for parking in a disabled spot, sometimes in an incredibly scary and upsetting way. Someone on my fibromyalgia support group went shopping during the special disabled-only hours and was yelled at due to not “looking” disabled (I can virtually guarantee she is overweight too—firstly because she has fibromyalgia, and secondly because people see “fat” and assume “lazy” and “selfish”). She also had her two kids with her because she’s a single parent and they are too young to stay at home.
So. Please don’t yell at someone who you think is breaking the rules. You don’t know their story.
Last night I spent a long time looking at the ACT Health guidelines, trying to figure out if our family of four could stand outside the grandparents’ windows to talk to them. I still don’t know. I know there’s a two-person rule for non-essential outings, and I know to social distance during said meeting… but I don’t know if that means we can visit grandparents in the same city. Did I break the law by taking my two kids to visit my mum’s backyard, or is it okay because they were exercising and I was picking up masks?
What about when I was filming the reading of Farting My ABCs, and I took the kids to a variety of pretty locations nearby that I thought would be isolated (I realised belatedly that we should have stayed off paths so it was easier to stay clear of other people walking or riding bikes)? Definitely not essential, and not technically exercise (although it was a lot of exercise for me because walking 50m is a big deal)… but I thought it was okay at the time. I’d better not do anything like that again.
Are we allowed to drive to odd (isolated) locations (in our own state) to exercise? Ugh, I don’t know.
I guess not? Because if everyone did it the entire outside world would be far too crowded. So we’re meant to stick “in our neighbourhood” even on permitted exercise breaks.
Resource of the day: For what it’s worth, ACT Health.
Recommended donation of the day: Salvos. I’ve heard some bad things about Salvos refusing to help some people for “Christian” (that is, anti-LGBTIQA+) reasons but I’m afraid I don’t know anything for sure. But they’re a big organisation with pre-existing connections to a lot of poor or struggling people, so that’s useful at the moment.
Personal action of the day: Sort your pantry and put anything you don’t want anymore out on the street with a ‘free’ sign for others to take.
Recommended hoarding item of the day: Good running/walking shoes. (I wrote this entry before deciding to stop recommending things to buy.)
The Virus Diaries: The Kids are Better than All Right
My kids are 5 and 8. It’s TJ’s first year of school; a moment that I have looked forward to with GREAT excitement for many years. He’s done plenty of day care and preschool, but Kindy is different. Apart from anything else, his education is finally in sync with Louisette’s.
But.
It’s kind of nice, to once more be the world expert on my kids. I mean, I was still the expert when they went to school but there was a huge chunk of every weekday I didn’t see or even know about. Because of COVID-19, I am once more the absolute centre of their world. Even when I’m not actively doing anything and/or when Chris is taking charge of everything kid-related, I can hear them and I know what’s going on in their lives every hour of every day.
I saw TJ’s face as his first tooth fell out.
I planted potatoes with Louisette.
I finally read one of my own books to TJ, and he loved it.
I’ve gotten back into reading with Louisette.
I’m almost as good as TJ on MarioKart.
Louisette is getting good at her times tables because of me.
Never forget that the reason your kids misbehave so much is that they know you’ll still love them no matter what they do.
This is the first generation in a long time to spend so much time with their primary caregiver/s after they reached school age. Years from now, the kids—mine and yours—won’t remember COVID-19 the way we do. They will remember wearing their PJs for weeks at a time, and sleeping in every day, and never having to rush to get to school. They’ll remember the time you got sick of education and watched a movie with them instead, and the time you burned popcorn together and stunk out the entire house. They’ll remember countless hours spent becoming a genuinely skilled athlete thanks to your cheap plastic basketball hoop, and jumping every day on the trampoline that they’d forgotten existed. They’ll remember eating wraps for lunch instead of regular bread, and drinking juice instead of milk—we’ll know it was because we couldn’t find the groceries we needed, but they’ll just remember how fun it was—and they’ll forget the day they screamed because there was only half a fish fillet in their dinner instead of a whole one. They’ll remember lying in the sun at lunchtime with you, talking about nothing because for once you had nothing better to do and no one more interesting to talk to. They’ll remember how you coloured in next to them, and the day you whispered that you can never remember your eight times tables either. They’ll remember being with you, day in and day out; being at the centre of your world and knowing they’re surrounded every second by the ones who love them the most. They’ll carry that feeling of love and connection for the rest of their lives.
Kids who experienced 2020 will be kinder than other kids. They’ll know to check on the elderly and the chronically ill, and will consider it a normal part of everyday life. They’ll always smile at strangers, and will never hesitate to help someone in trouble. They will never take hugs for granted. They will always know that they are loved at their worst, no matter what, and at the same time they’ll know that their parents are sometimes scared or tired, and sometimes not even very good at being parents. They will reflect our own exhausted 2020-style love back to us when we’re too old to care for ourselves, and in those future days they’ll be the ones putting up with our eccentric clothing styles and constant whinging for treats.
They’ll know that no amount of money or possessions can stop a person depending on other people to get through the hard times, and they’ll live in a serene faith that when the chips are down, all of humanity can cooperate, and all of humanity actually does a pretty good job of looking after each other. They’ll know that even the most vile and selfish politicians eventually do the right thing because there are enough good and clever people in the world to sway the balance of public opinion towards facts and scientific truth. They’ll be more empathetic and flexible than other generations, and more connected to the global community. They will be the generation that sees the world take united action against Climate Change, because they’ll know from experience that the whole world can achieve amazing things. They will be the best adults this world has ever seen.
Resource of the day: Your kids are surprisingly resourceful. What’s something they’ve always wanted to do but you never had time for?
Recommended donation of the day: Who can you ‘donate’ time to today?
Personal action of the day: Find a different song to wash your hands to. Anything that takes twenty seconds is good, and that’s the length of many popular choruses.
Hoarding item of the day: This is the final day for hoarding, as grocery shops will start restricting customer numbers from tomorrow. Maybe get a haircut, since everyone’s trying to get in one last shop today (before the queues start)?
The Virus Diaries: Things That Suck
Sometimes it can help to be specific when figuring out what problems to accept and what problems to solve. Since I have an anxiety disorder, I’m an expert at dealing with stress, so let’s dive in. I’ve bolded the ones that apply to me and then given myself advice in italics.
Things That Suck About The Rona
1. People dying.
2. People sick/hospitalised.
3. People afraid of getting sick/dying or sickness/death of their loved ones.
Choose not to prioritise this anxiety unless someone important to me actually gets sick. Remind myself that nothing bad has actually happened to me or anyone I love and end the thought process there.
4. Politicians on the news more.
5. Lots of cool stuff cancelled.
6. Lots of jobs lost, many permanently.
7. Some businesses will collapse, or have already collapsed (sucky for them and for their customers).
8. Some jobs, especially casual jobs, suddenly offering way less hours.
9. Financial stress, both short and long term.
Pfft. That’s normality for us. We’re saving money on car fuel and social obligations at the moment, so that’s kinda cool.
10. Jobs being altered eg working from home, dealing with unfamiliar technology, and often also having kids at home. So even if your job and pay are fundamentally unchanged, they suck at the moment.
We’re settling into a routine now, and I’m coping remarkably well.
11. Kids. At. Home. All the time. Parents don’t get time to themselves at all any more.
Going semi-nocturnal and having Chris and I sleeping in separate rooms has basically solved this. Also Chris can be called on if I’m losing it, which is extremely good to know.
12. Attempting to educate kids.
I’m doing great with that, and the kids are used to it too.
13. Not allowed to do basic stuff such as go to restaurants, bars, haircuts, picnics.
Oh well. We bought a month’s worth of Amazon Prime which is an equally good treat in my book.
14. Stir crazy from being at home for so long.
The yard and (mostly) good weather still has great novelty for me (as you can tell by all the pics of/from the hammock).
15. Worrying about all the people not obeying quarantine rules or guidelines.
It turns out around 75% compliance does the job of flattening the curve very well. But don’t tell them that.
16. Not able to get various things sorted due to isolation rules eg new car, house extension.
17. Dating is extremely difficult.
18. Tension and crankiness due to household being stuck together all the time.
19. Shopping is difficult, and about to get worse.
20. Lack of certain supplies eg toilet paper.
We haven’t run out of either toilet paper or milk yet, so no one’s suffering here. And there’s still plenty of chocolate and lollies.
21. Weddings and funerals have strict laws about how many people can be present.
22. People can’t (for the most part) visit relatives in nursing homes. Or even healthy grandparents in their own homes. Or have grandparents babysit so parents get a break. And the grandparents miss their kids and grandkids.
Yeah, that sucks. But we have FaceTime at least. My parents and in-laws can survive without the kids’ hugs for a bit.
23. Special events such as Passover, Easter, Anzac Day, and Mothers’ Day cannot be communally celebrated.
Ditto. And on the up side, I don’t have to bother going to other people’s houses (which tend to make me sick for one reason or another).
24. Lots of movies delayed.
25. Stressed people treating others badly (especially those in food retail). Including some people choosing to go in full denial who are eating at crowded restaurants, or even coughing or spitting on people.
26. An increase in racist actions against Asians.
My Asian friends are tough. And they know they’re loved and valuable members of the community.
27. Awful conditions for health workers, as well as the risk of death due to being at work.
28. Incompetent governments making things worse.
Always. *shrug*
29. The heartbreaking maths of who gets a respirator when there aren’t enough for everyone.
30. Worried for strangers, and the world. Knowing there are people worse off than us.
There is exactly one thing I can do to help the world right now, and that is to STAY HOME. I have to tell myself that I AM helping, and I’m helping enough, and that the world is not my personal responsibility anyway.
This is… not Zipper. This is our previous cat, Ana, who didn’t mind photography as much.
Resource of the day: A reminder from writer (and extremely crude swearmaster) Chuck Wendig that this is a big deal and you’re not meant to be as productive (or whatever) as usual.
Recommended donation of the day: A medical helicopter service that usually gets a bunch of donations through events… which are cancelled.
Personal action of the day: Face your anxiety, whatever it may be, and try to either accept it or deal with it. Perhaps write it down and then burn it? Accept that you can’t save the whole world, but you can make a difference by staying home (or not, if you’re an essential worker). Remember that staying home is hard.
Hoarding item of the day: If you’re lactose free and having trouble finding milk, it’s time to get into the chemist for some lactease or lactace tablets/drops.
The Virus Diaries: My Apocalypse Garden
One of the great joys of parenthood is being able to skillfully manipulative one’s children. So when TJ asked to shoot 100 baskets (which would take at least an hour of throwing, running after the ball, and throwing again) instead of jumping on the trampoline 100 times (which takes about a minute), of course I said yes.
He’s up to 17 so far (I relented of course and let him jump on the trampoline), and he’s getting pretty good. I predict a lot of kids will be AMAZING at shooting baskets by the time quarantine is over.
All these photos were taken from different shots, but they look awesome in this order.
It was raining all day yesterday, but we all coped fine. Ditto today, plus I had a big phone appointment with my doctor so she can write a letter specifying my 35 points of Impairment for Centrelink. And I’m still holding up well at 4:35pm. Plus I did lessons for both kids, and washed my hair. I’m winning at life, is what I’m saying.
This Sunday marks our third week of isolation. But, in a reverse of normal life, I’m very much looking forward to school holidays (which start on either this coming Wednesday or Thursday). Because normally I’m terrified to spend a full day at home with the kids and no Chris, but these holidays will be easier than trying to also educate them—plus Chris will be on hand if I have a panic attack or I’m not coping in whatever way.
My quest to have Zipper come on my lap in the hammock continues. Twice now I’ve actually lifted her into my lap and gently held her for a few seconds. She jumped off immediately, but she didn’t flee the area and she didn’t eviscerate me so clearly she didn’t mind all that much. I have a billion photos of her taken from the hammock, as she usually comes and sits close by (walking underneath me every so often to collect a pat on the way through).
Weirdly, she’s been even more affectionate lately. A lot of cats are probably stressed out by having their owners around all the time (and the kids) but Zipper apparently likes it. She loves it when I have insomnia (most nights) and get up to watch more TV or whatever late at night.
Louisette and I planted our (very green and sprouting) potatoes the other day. We cut them in half (I’m pretty sure that’s what Matt Damon did in “The Martian”) and planted them in a section of the front garden that Chris had weeded for us. Louisette adores gardening.
I have killed many many Woolies variety basil plants. This one has some brown bits but is otherwise… well, alive. And that’s the main thing. I’m hoping it can last long enough for me to use it as “greens” for Passover (by which I mean the Christian version, celebrating what we see as something God deliberately designed to foreshadow Jesus’ arrival and resurrection), which I’ll be doing via Zoom with my family (probably). Assuming I get over my slight phobia of video chats.
Greens and potatoes are an absolute must in any apocalypse garden. Greens because green vegetables are so important, and potatoes because they provide almost everything a person needs in a single delicious item. (Assuming no Blight, of course…)
I also have a lemon tree, which started producing a few edible fruit from last year (after contributing exactly nothing for four years). Great for staving off scurvy, and of course making lemonade.
And it’s not food but I’m trying to grow a cutting off a purple bush in my front yard. So far I kept it in water for several weeks (and it didn’t die) then stuck it in a pot with another plant. It’s looking unhappy but I think it misses having all the water it could drink so I’m watering it more when I remember.
A LOT of people are starting or expanding their existing food gardens at the moment, so if you’re trying to start your own you might have trouble getting plants. But my facebook feed is now about 70% gardens (mostly flowers) so that’s kinda nice.
Resource of the day: Advice for those gardening in Canberra.
Recomended donation of the day: Got something edible growing in your garden? I bet people in your neighbourhood would love cuttings and/or home grown food. You can leave some out the front of your house with a sign telling people to help themselves.
Personal action of the day: If you have a pet, take them to a vet for a checkup immediately. Vets are currently stocktaking their supplies so that some medical equipment can be used to save human lives. Which means there won’t be any for pets. So try to keep your pet in good health, if you can.
Recommended hoarding item of the day: Gifts for your family and friends for the next 6 months (possibly from your garden).
The Virus Diaries: Aftermath
I’m going to keep talking about the rejected application for Disability Support today, because it’s a big deal.
The immediate issue is that we need to get new ducted reverse cycle air conditioning (the long-term issue is, “How do we pay our bills?” but you probably guessed that). In Australia, ducted AC is considered a luxury (we didn’t have it on our list of must-haves when we bought our house, but we were pleasantly surprised that it happened to be there). Unfortunately I’m extremely sensitive to heat due to a combination of auto-immune diseases and fibromyalgia, so it’s a medical necessity for us.
Do I sound defensive? I feel defensive. Our AC broke rather badly quite a while ago, and even with my health issues I feel like a spoiled brat insisting on a system that will cost around $8000 to replace. That’s more than I usually make in a year, and of course a lot of people around me are saying, “Are you SURE you NEED it?” (That Gaslighting entry just keeps popping up, doesn’t it?)
So I feel a little better now that winter is on the horizon and our entire heating system is a tiny fan heater the size of our cat—and three hot water bottles. I actually handle cold quite well (a major advantage of being overweight) so the focus has now shifted to what Chris and the children need, which I’m much more comfortable advocating for. Louisette in particular feels the cold.
We applied for one form of financing yesterday, and were rejected. Today we’ll apply for another, our best remaining option. If we’re rejected for that, we’ll be in trouble. Thanks again, Centrelink!
There are five bits of good news:
1. I did some mid-week fiction writing last night, so I’m feeling good about The Floating City. I MIGHT be able to finish it during the school holidays, maybe.
2. TJ has decided he no longer needs company when going to the toilet. Fantastic. He’s also stopped singing “The Lion Sleeps Tonight” and… I’m not missing it.
3. I respond well to crisis situations so at the moment I’m mostly feeling okay. I went through about forty pages of Impairment Tables last night and my impairments add up to 35 points (excluding one condition that I’m getting new meds for today), so theoretically it should be simple to get proof for at least 20 points’ worth. I’ve made a phone appointment with my doctor for tomorrow.
4. We have almost completely recovered from the various expenses of last summer’s apocalyptic events (for us, the golfball-sized hail was the most expensive part). So… yay.
5. Staying in isolation means less fuel for the car, so that’s saving some cash. And of course there are no expensive social events, which is helpful too (financially speaking) even though our friends aren’t the type to do anything more expensive than a pot luck dinner (and about one movie a year).
There’s something about concrete that makes Zipper start going belly-up.
Resource of the day: If you get regular medication, you chemist will probably arrange delivery. Mine does.
Recommended donation of the day: Make your street brighter by displaying bears and/or rainbows. The bears are for kids to spot as they walk around their suburbs. The rainbows are to say that things will get better.
Recommended hoarding item of the day: Money? Money is super useful. This isn’t one of those ‘cash-free’ apocalypses you read about.
Tomorrow: My Apocalypse Garden
PS I’m still editing the videos I took of my kids while I read Farting My ABCs. There are some classic moments in there.
The Virus Diaries: Rejected
“After considering your circumstances, we have made a decision that you are not eligible for Disability Support Pension. To be eligible for Disability Support Pension, you need to have an impairment of 20 points or more under the Impairment Tables. These tables are used to assess how much your ability to work is affected by any permanent medical condition that is fully diagnosed, treated and stabilised. You have been assessed as not having an impairment rating of 20 points or more.”
Thus ran the message I received in response to the Disability Support Pension application I filed in February.
The good news is that my various conditions are diagnosed, treated (with varying levels of success) and stabilised. One of them is about to get a new treatment which is promising, but the rest are pretty useless.
I’m way over 20 points of impairment, but now I’ll have to gather more data to support that, then apply again, then wait months for the next response.
This is not an unusual story. Many people with fibromyalgia (and other conditions, but fibromyalgia is relatively new so it makes it easier for people to deny its existence) wade through paperwork and expensive specialists for years before getting approved (which we’ve already done for an average of 5 years before getting diagnosed). Drowning disabled people in complicated tasks and paperwork is a great way to save money, because loads of them are too sick to keep applying.
I have at least one more round in me. After that, we’ll see.
I’ve printed off thirty or so pages of Impairment Tables to go through item by item, and then take to my GP. I’ll also need to figure out what form to use for an appeal, probably by calling Centrelink. At the moment, most of Australia is already on hold to Centrelink. Wait times are at least two hours. Well, fine. It’s not like I was busy attempting to educate my kids or anything.
Resource of the day: Anything that’s not Centrelink.
Recommended donation of the day: I’m not the only person dealing with Centrelink at the moment. Send some chocolate to someone you know who’s “lucky” enough to be abruptly unemployed.
A lot of people are suddenly discovering that when circumstances beyond your control send you to the dole queue, it’s not nearly as fun or helpful as you would think.
Personal action of the day: Don’t get sick. (I’m just full of usefulness today, aren’t I?)
Recommended hoarding item of the day: If you’re chronically or seriously ill, make sure you keep all your medical paperwork. If nothing else, it’s another handy source of toilet paper.
Felicity Banks 