Shouts From Down Under

Something is missing, but I can't put my finger on what.

Do you ever get a notion, when you read someone's story that there is something missing?

It's like a meal where you think, yes, it's nice. It's very good, but...

And what about the clothing someone's wearing.

And the crime scene where Patrick Jane sees immediately that there is a towel missing on the clothes line? Major progress from this missing item.

But, this blog isn't about the previous two days of missing blog entries. The simple explanation for those missing ones is that I'm too busy with life. Life has me in it's grip and like a cog in a gearbox, there's no escape, unless I disconnect somehow.

And I'm not about to do that. Not for all the chilli in a Chinese restaurant.

The thing missing for me these past few days is stability. I'm torn between living here and continuing these idyllic days with my elderly parents, and / or returning to our home in Tasmania, where I'll work again part time as a lowly cleaner.

Yes, I'll be again the CLEANER. That person you see that blends in, pushing their barrow of brushes and bottles, cloths and cleaning gear.
The cleaner is the person who hears all the gossip, and secrets in the establishment, because they are invisible. People don't see cleaners as people, generally in my experience anyway. Cleaners are sort of part of a machine. An appliance built into the apartment block. An add on to your home that automatically comes and goes, and you just press the buttons and get results. If it fails you get a new one. That's the cleaner.

The lowliest job in all the world, or perhaps not if you look at the lowest caste system in India (that is supposed to not exist these day?)
Those who deal with dead things.

There will be more missing blogs in the coming days, like that intangible "something" that you puzzle about that's missing from a novel, from a recipe, a musical arrangement, a floral arrangement, a canvas, a blog entry.

The lack may not be a mistake. It may be done on purpose. It may have been deliberately invented to poke your cerebellum, to provoke you to thought. From thought to action. From action to receiving responses. From responses to knee jerk counter responses. Ok whatever.

So, the thing that may be missing is me.

Sparky