I never know what is going on. I hear about things after the fact, if at all, but two weeks ago I was at the heart of major Brisbane news. Having had that experience, I am now prepared to spend the rest of my days behind the eight ball. Two weeks ago, Thursday, I arrived at work to find something sureal occuring at the house next door. Was that an ambulance? Why was there a tent/canopy between the trunk and the house - beyond the obvious - Cyclone Diane was dumping rain on our fair city. Oh, and crime scene tape. And, that "worker" is dressed in a blue disposable suit including hood and mask. I learned that this excitement had started Wednesday. I don't work Wednesdays but it had encouraged "coffee breaks" outside in the parking lot trying to piece together a story. The story wasn't too hard to find. Google search - police reports, Bald Hills, street name. OK. I didn't find the answer immediately but I did find it. Early in March a young Brisbane man, S, driving a fancy orange Mustang disappeared. The fancy orange Mustang was found in NSW but not the man. Seems our neighbor had been arrested for murder and the house next door was being searched. We know nothing - especially me. You cannot see the house. There are big shrubs and high fences between us. Our clinic has no windows. And, I come in to work from the other side now that I'm training full time - so I don't even walk past from parking up the road, anymore. There are some interesting things. Like our man has a new kitten for which he missed his vaccination appointment earlier in the month. Something came up, he told us. (The appointment was rescheduled so she's had her shot. Whew.) Our man went to the neighborhood hardware/home center store a few days after the day S disappeared....bought a tomahawk (really? there is something you buy in Australia called a tomahawk?!) and 20 liters of acid. Later - a day? two? - he returned and rented a floor sander. In addition to the crime of the year story...there's that cyclone that was used to set the scene in paragraph one. The rumor was that public transportation was going to shut down at noon, so I left work about 10. Kevin picks me up from the train station these days. It isn't far - about 2 km - but it is quicker than taking a bus or walking. Quicker unless you try to drive through a deep cyclone inspired puddle at the bottom of the hill on our street - in which case your car dies. Dies dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.
Oh, yeah. That was in March. Nothing exciting since!