Every year at Easter the routine’s the same – I go to Mum’s, I lay around like a slob, I feign disapproval when she presents me with easter eggs. So clearly there was a disturbance in the force this year, most likely brought about by her relocation to Bendigo. Not only was I busy working up a sweat helping her unpack several decades of crap including my first ever toothbrush (as ridiculous as it is true), by Sunday evening the realisation dawned that the Easter bunny wasn’t making it to me this year, and those laps of the local lake swatting the locusts and feeling like an extra in a remake of The Ten Commandments, were for nada.
For the record Mr Bunny, no doesn’t always mean no, and sometimes when I say don’t buy me easter eggs, I mean I’d like a Red Tulip elegant rabbit or a humpty dumpty with smarties, thanks.
{ 2 comments }
CRAIG FREAKEN WEBB AH HA 04.07.10 at 4:02 pm
you’re fabulous and I adore you! nuf sed.
HRH PoP 04.08.10 at 3:50 pm
That breaks my heart!!
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