October 17, 2002 @ 3:29 p.m.
Of love and family. And also, vomit.

So, Stu and I were separated for over a week while he was in Sydney on 'business' (I am still very suspicious of this trip and not at all convinced that it did not involve letting that nasty boy from the office touch his butt). A week is not a long time, granted. But we are not used to being apart for more than a couple of days. So it felt very odd. I was heard to remark to a couple of housemates that I wasn't sure what I wanted to do first: cuddle him or sit on his face. It was suggested by the ever-enterprising Miss Deirdre that perhaps I could do both at once, and a debate was embarked upon between myself, Deirdre and Miss Annabelle as to the best way of doing this.
In case you're interested, we never really came to a conclusion because we started singing "Sit On My Face" and kind of forgot about the debate.

But anyway, Monday night finally rolled around and I was eagerly anticipating the reunion. And what a reunion! The only problem was, shortly after we discovered that Tab A is still very compatible with Slot B, I started feeling sick. After much time spent at the porcelain confessional, I concluded that no vomit was going to be forthcoming and that perhaps in the future it would be prudent to wait more than five seconds after a big meal before taking part in vigorous sexual activity. Stu suggested that perhaps we'd better take a bucket to bed with us anyway. Unlike most of his suggestions, I listened to this one. Which was lucky for both of us, really, because around a minute after lying down, I puked.
And puked.
And puked.
Gross as it was, I was somewhat impressed with myself. I wasn't aware that one person could produce that much vomit in one, er, sitting. I even managed to top that performance by having to get up every half hour or so all night to go be on intimate speaking terms with the toilet. Stu got slightly more sleep than I did, but only just.

Welcome home, darling! It's great to see you!

In other news, my sister Anna, the displaced, complex and depressive middle child of our family boarded a plane to London yesterday. I will not see her for another year. This has not quite sunk in yet, and I suspect it might not for a while to come. Sad as it is, I've gotten used to her flitting in and out of my life and never really seeming like a permanent fixture. She's ten years my senior so I was still quite young when she moved to Adelaide to go to Uni. Until recently, that's pretty much where she's been permanently stationed.

She stayed at my house on Saturday night. I'd been planning to go out to see Lisa Miller, but decided I was too tired to go anywhere, so the three of us (Anna and I plus Miss Deirdre) got pizza and beer instead. Whilst I navigated the road between bottle shop and pizza parlour, Anna came out with the observation that her overnight stay with me would be the most time we'd spent together for a long time. I didn't reply at first, partly because I was concentrating on the arsehole in the lane next to me (who couldn't decide whether he wanted to drive properly or sit back and masturbate with a cheese grater), and partly because it hit me that she was right and I was trying to recollect the last time it had just been the two of us for any great length of time. At least a couple of years. Jesus.

"I guess I've really not seen much of you for a really long time," she said.
"Yeah," I said, unable to come out with anything more inspired.
"I've missed most of the last ten years...". There was an emotional storm brewing and I wanted to avoid it. I'm no good with crying chicks.
"You've missed out on seeing what a fine young woman I've grown to be."
"I have."
"I can make my boobies clap together, all by themselves!"
"That's quite impressive."
Crisis averted. The bosoms save the day again.

I'm already regretting that our goodbye did not have more emotional resonance. I'm inept at that sort of thing. It seems like I'm only good at emotion when it's inappropriate. I know that's not the case, that I can be a good friend and sister and girlfriend and all the other roles prescribed. And god knows I don't want to be in snotful tears in the middle of an airport; that's not really me.

I'm just worried that the intelligent, loving woman who constantly doubts her place in our disfunctional clan has exited stage right with no real concept how how much she is loved and will be missed.

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