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The sound of the suburbs
The absurd, forehead wrinkling, wincing expression people pull when running through a rain shower as though they are in pain.
The really interested, ego-stroking voice you use when asking the host for a recipe you know you will never ever get round to making.
The disappointment that hits upon making your first trip to the chocolate box, when you discover all the caramels and fudges have vaporised.
The violent thoughts you have when you are desperate for a meeting to close and that person keeps asking questions that are only relevant to their role.
The fake, preparatory, grin movements you make when getting yourself ready to react appropriately to the punchline of a joke that everyone is desperate to be over.
To use the watertight fall back of your children to get away early from a social event you don’t really want to be at.
The collection of fake, accepting nods and ‘sure no problems’ you do when someone is giving you a Balcatta and you don’t believe a word of it.
The raging pen hurl that you do when you are trying to take an urgent note and said pen is refusing to offer any ink whatsoever and just scoring the paper like an ice skating spin.
The aimless path of that random walk you complete around your house when on a phone call.
Incorporating a minor, house tidying manoeuvre into the Yanchep by returning an item to a draw or shelf.
The building fury involved when attempting to stretch a bin liner that is slightly too small for the kitchen trash can.
The sense of disappointment towards the end of the evening when you realise that once again you didn’t do the creative project you intended, but watched crap TV instead.
The sudden realisation that you are boring yourself when telling an anecdote, hence the emerging creeping doubt about whether your audience is still with you.
Taking items out to the wheelie bin at night, while nude.
Awkward moment in a group when someone has just enthusiastically raised a point that bears no relation to the subject being discussed.
An earnest, impressive comment you deliberately make a quarter of the way into a long meeting to convince attendees you are focused and listening, so that you can then safely spend the remainder daydreaming without attracting suspicion.
Feeling of relief you have the first night of returning to your own bed after a week in one that was poor.
Absurdly violent reaction you have after swallowing a fly while running.
Someone who will only buy a product if it is listed in a Choice magazine top ten.
The awful realisation you get arriving at an event such as a wedding or christening, that the temperature in the room is going to mean you will be soon be absolutely melting under the formal attire.
Pointless, scathing remark you make to your partner to bring them down to the bad mood you are in.
The unique swearing rant you make when, despite forwarding previous correspondence appropriately, you continue to have to pull out of your mailbox every month an obscure clothing store newsletter for someone who lived in your house five years ago.
The wincing, preparatory pulling back motion you do when the colleague with the voice that could strip paint is about to talk in your ear at the latter stages of the Christmas party.
The odd boy at school you forgot about until years later, when you saw in the local paper that he was caught stealing underwear off a clothes line.
An awful veranda.
The one person that cannot stop writing aggressive kitchen notes at work telling people off in a parental style.
Anything that is mysterious and gets you pondering, such as why there is sometimes a solitary boot in the middle of the freeway.