I Am Too Tired To Think of a Tilte For This Post.

'Show me your soul and I'll show you mine.'

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I may or may not have had a date on Thursday night... one of the good types, but without that danger. I'll keep you posted.

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I've traveled over 2000 kilometres today.

I've had 4 hours sleep in the last 36 hours. Two of those hours were on separate plane trips, which was lovely. Except I kept waking up with the horrible feeling that I was, in fact, not only in a car, but actually driving a car- and I just fallen asleep. Not cool.

Made even not cooler by the fact that, as we descended into Melbourne this morning, in my sleepy state I once again thought I was riving a car. Which was going far too fast. So I begin pumping the imaginary brake to slow us down.

I'm sure it was amusing for the business men sitting next to me.

Anyway, I digress. The sleep deprivation is definitely kicking in and I think I'm slightly delusional and probably have been for most of the day.

Whatever. I spent today in Melbourne at the ProBlogger Training Day, run by Mr Darren Rowse. And, as seems to be the usual result of any blogger meet up.... I had an awesome time.

A huge thanks to the blog Good Googs and the cloth nappy people Rascal Rumps for sponsoring me to go to this one.

I got to see my lovely Wanderlust. We've met before, but I think we were both so shell shocked by life in general that point we just hugged and cried and there wasn't a lot that needed to be said. This time round, we giggled. I think that means we're healing, both of us.

As is the trend with me and blogging events, I may have talked too much and sat on the floor in the back of the room tweeting slightly inappropriate things about a certain ... erm... fashion blogger. No violence took place, despite what this Tweet may imply.

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The second half of my day turned out to be not-quite-so-awesome as the first.

As we know, I adore Melbourne. The weirdest things just seem to turn up there. Such as the giant bat baby.

And the shopping- chocolate cookie earrings and retro knit undies, specifically- is just funkier than you'll ever find in Sydney.

I can even forgive Melbourne for raining, because that is what it does there. And no one seems particularly bothered by it, because it doesn't make life that much more difficult. People are still friendly and helpful, offer directions and general conversation without suspicion.

Bunny and I have decided, after discussing this numerous times, that people who live in Melbourne are simply less cranky than those in Sydney because they aren't stressed out by the time they get to the CBD. Even with the rain and half the inner city teeming with police and OccupyMelbourne drama, the traffic was so minimal and light and easy.

Speaking of Occupy... I don't know enough- by choice- to form a valid opinion. But the hippy in me loves a police car covered in carnations and peace signs.

But trying to get a taxi between three and four pm- shift change was near impossible. After waiting for half an hour- boo hiss to the woman who blatantly jumped the queue, grabbed a taxi, and then stuck her finger up as she left- I decided to jump on a tram to the shuttle bus to the airport. And thankyou to the angel of a woman who showed me, on my iPhone, how to get there.

After running for the plane and then tearfully convincing the woman on the desk to let me check in ten minutes back my cut-off time- no baggage to check helped- my flight was half an hour late anyway.

Which was OK. Because the person picking me up- who I won't name, but it rhymes with Funny- had fallen asleep on the lounge and not yet left home. And would be another forty five minutes.

If you happened to be in T3 of Sydney airport tonight at about 8:45pm, and happened to see a small woman with dark hair jumping up and down and stamping her foot like a toddler while screaming into her mobile phone... never mind. 

An hour and a half later, and I'm on my home. Dropped off my sleepy-head chauffeur, picked up two sleeping sacks of children and drove back to Tiny Train Town. 

To discover I'd lost my house keys. Probably somewhere in Melbourne.

Which was also OK. The bathroom window was open a tiny crack, I could squeeze through there once I took the flyscreen off. Easy.

Except for the massive wolf spider the size of my palm that was sitting, right there on the flyscreen, of the only open window in the house.

If I hadn't been so damn exhausted, I may have laughed the screaming laugh of one very close to the edge.

Instead, I cried and called Bunny, who came and rescued me from the scary spider with it shiny eyes, and climbed in the bathroom window for me too.

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Lack of sleep and general fatigue are such funny things.

Much easier to deal with, when it's exciting... when you feel you like you might almost be close to happy.