I dare not open my eyes for fear of the time. Will it be after two am? Three am? Please God, let me sleep for a bit longer; please God.
The bedroom is quiet except for the occasion wheeze from my husband; and as I am bargaining with the Big Fella upstairs, the reassuring thunk of my newspaper delivery told me it was 4.10am.
Today we need to organise a truck to carry mother-in-laws possessions out of a stranger’s garage, as he is travelling overseas. So we need a truck, and we need some heavy lifting men with strong bulging arms and cheery smiles.
I’m hoping the Brisbane City Council have moved the pile of rubbish that was once the contents of the house.