TIme in Australia was moving by at an alarming rate. My few short months in Melbourne were now over, and my new life in Sydney was just now beginning, but time was still flying. Thanksgiving had already passed, and now, so had Halloween. It went uncelebrated since our new move intercepted with my favorite holiday. There was even a pumpkin on our mantle in the kitchen, still untouched by a carving knife. The pumpkin was special to me in a way. In the month or so leading up to the frightening holiday, I was ecstatic. Finding costume places, ideas, parties, etc. Just because Australia doesn’t really celebrate Halloween, doesn’t mean that we couldn’t. So after having a pretty crummy day back in Melbourne, my lovely boyfriend walked into my room with his arms behind his back and a huge and silly lopsided grin on his face. It was then that he revealed the perfect pumpkin for me to carve and to take the guts out of. Muhahaha…. But then the move happened and that good ole pumpkin hitched a ride with us all of the way to Sydney, where it kindly found a home in our kitchen, and not in our pies.
So anyways, our apartment was becoming more and more of an apartment and not just a mattress lying on the wooden floor. The place was over a hundred years old with 12 foot high ceilings and honestly, almost too much space for us to fill. Then we got lucky. We found a very nice bed, a coffee table, two futons (with the help of a busted back wind screen), a red and lush rug, and a wardrobe. Ohhh… the wardrobe.
Remember those friends that I had made that only live a couple of blocks away? The kind of people that would give you the last shirt off of their own backs? Well they made us feel at home from the very first day, dropping off tea, cleaning supplies, crackers, anything that they could find that was buy one get one free, the free item was ours. So of course when they had an extra wardrobe, it was ours for the taking. Hell, they’ll even help us carry it those five or so blocks back to our place since it wouldn’t fit into anyone’s car. Which they did, happily.
Except the problem was that as soon as we picked it up on their drive way, the mirror of the middle of the wardrobe fell and shattered into a million pieces. It was then that we set the object back down and divided up the total amount of bad years we were going to be living amongst the four of us. Later on we figured out that none of us received any cursed years of living…. they all just went to my boyfriend. Because in the next week he almost electrocuted himself, stepped on a nail that went through his work boot, and busted out the back wind screen of his car with that damn futon. But none of the other three of us were complaining. We were scratch free…. for now.
So the wardrobe eventually found a home in our lovely apartment, and the place was starting to really feel like home. It was also starting to feel a bit hot with the lack of air conditioning and the full front of summer heading our way, but I really couldn’t complain none.
That was… until the slugs.
The damn slugs.
You see, my bladder kind of has a mind of it’s own. If it needs to go to the bathroom while I’m sleeping and laying on it, it needs to go now. There is no going back to sleep business. So it got used to going to the bathroom at three in the morning, because three in the morning is seven at night at home, and apparently that’s a part of it’s routine.
So anyways, it all started when I got up one morning to go pee. Very lady like, I know. I arose from the bed, with my phone flashlight in hand, and maneuvered my way around, trying not to wake him up, and eventually found my footing on the firm floor. As I started walking though, I could see trails of something shiny through my very dopey eyes. It was then that I got down on all fours and proceeded to follow the lines. It was hopeless. You know why? Because our shaggy red carpet was full of those shiny lines. They were not meant to be followed.
But! At last…. I found one of the culprits on the rest of my short walk to the bathroom. It was a slug. A giant ass slug and it was sitting in the middle of my kitchen floor. I then proceeded to wake up my boyfriend, my face full of disgust, and he promptly scooped up the tiny intruder with the dust pan and walked it outside.
It was the first of many, and after a while I started doing research on how to get rid of the annoying little buggers.
Lines of salt were then spread throughout every single door way and the fire place. After one night of my boyfriend picking up SIX slugs, I was considering the ultimate weapon.
Because according to my research, slugs love beer, just like any other Australian born being. The slugs would climb up a bowl full with beer and drown in it.
I was actually getting excited to see if it would actually work when all of a sudden, the slugs were gone.
I guess they were catching on to us about the beer.
So anyways, it was definitely an adventure. Now, I do not know if breaking that damn mirror gave us bad luck and the slugs started coming out of nowhere because of it, but I mean, what else could it have been- right?
Moral of the story? Don’t break mirrors, always have salt near by, and drink plenty of beer.