11th of Jan, or maybe the 12th

Below where I live there is a large underground concrete lined area where people that I don’t know leave their empty cars. There might be all sorts of reasons they leave them down there, I suppose that for most, it’s convenience.

There’s one particular car that lives next to mine, and three times this week there has been someone sitting in it, with the engine running.

She isn’t making any of the motions one would typically make while going through the process of vehicular ingress or egress. Not clicking and clacking, front and backing, nor fumbling for phones on the floor.

Just sitting, staring straight ahead with intent, as though playing chicken with death. I move as close to the car as I can without her mouthing ‘get away’ more than twice, hoping that I’ll hear a podcast playing, or a particularly tops symphony.

But all is silent.

It’s a fucking mystery.

Overheard this morning: one woman — sweaty in pink — talking at a second sweaty pinky. They were at a bubbler on a walking trail, and the more severe of the pair was saying “you have to put that in the safety deposit box of mental toughness” and I thought: I’ll remember that word-for-word or die trying.

Then I spent the rest of my walk thinking about mansplaining, brought on by this clear case of womansplaining.

Is women complaining about mansplaining womanplaining? It’s seems like equality of sexistness.

And do men mainsplain to men? I think they do — I heard a couple of blokes riding very slowly as they passed me explaining to each other about the history of the shit around us. “That used to be old warehouses”, “they made Holden’s there until the late 80's”, “then it was a textile factory”. Just taking it in turns with their little parade of facts.

They seemed happy enough.

And women definitely womansplain to men. I’ve heard my mother explain to my father — in preparation for an overnight trip with her mum — how to use the fridge.

I’ve heard my sister womansplain to her husband not to leave the toddler face down in the pool for extended periods of time. Granted, he was an idiot and could have used a few pointers on the finer points of the common fridge.

So there we have it, everyone ‘splains to everyone, who cares if men do it, like, 800 times more.

People also complain a lot about death threats. Oh boo hoo, someone that almost certainly lives nowhere near you is going to rape your whole family to death with a mallet, allegedly.

Suck it up princess.

I assume most death threats come from either people not old enough to drive, or Croatians, for both of whom (both of whom?) coming all the way to my house is really out of the question, and certainly out of the way.

Really they’re threatening to spend a lot of their own money and time just to do something I’ve always wanted anyway. To be raped to death with a mallet after having watched the rest of my family succumb to the same fate (I’m assuming I get to go last — that’s usually specified in the death threat).

But I don’t think you could uphold the anger throughout the entire journey to my house. They say count to ten to calm down — by the time my would-be killer showed up on my doorstep they’d be my hat my ghandi.

There’s something funny going on with my monitor where it goes completely blank for about two thirds of a second once a day, at a time of its choosing, and for a brief moment I wonder if this is it. If one of the death threats has come through, someone did poison my milk and there was no light, only darkness. Then the monitor comes back on and I remember, oh yeah, this happens daily.

I only exist while you're reading my posts.

I only exist while you're reading my posts.