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Today I finally got to see the apartment I’ve been banging on about for almost twelve weeks. I was expecting an emotional overload, but fabulously, I managed to stay quite detached. It was very different to what I’d expected, but still awesome. If I were to buy it, it would require a paring down of possessions like I’ve never imagined, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Miss M is in love with it, after initially not wanting to see it, although I think she’s partly sold by the groovy white stools that were in the kitchen, and no amount of me telling her they wouldn’t come with the house seemed to hit home.

A few things needing rectifying, like no oven, and no storage, but a quick trip to Ikea will fix at least part of that problem in no time. There’s only room for a bar fridge in the kitchen, but the idea of a totally pared back me is quite appealing. Tomorrow I have to make a list of pro’s and con’s, and although the estate agent wanted an offer in by close of business Wednesday, I’m going to go back next Saturday to the other open day and check out things like phone jacks, and work out what I’d be actually taking and how it would fit.

My knee is well on the way to complete recovery, and I’m under instruction to run sometime between now and Tuesday, and have my last osteo treatment on Wednesday. It’s awesome to be able to move around pain free (I’m touching wood as I type), and the idea of running again holds an appeal I’ve never previously imagined.

Today I’m loving: Moscow mules. Who knew lime and ginger beer would go together so well?

Sometimes you have to be reminded of things you’ve already learned. I had just such a lesson when I saw my wonderful osteopath today, and he kicked my butt for my dodgy mental attitude regarding my knee. I’m not going to go on and on about it, because both it and I are feeling much better, but suffice to say, any person who assuages your guilt about eating 3/4 of a birthday cake and reassures you about your ability to perform a lunge when you’re really too frightened to is awesome in my book.

So, enough about the knee. I received an interesting phone call this afternoon, while eating a giant breakfast at 3.45pm with my sweet Miss M. Apparently a gym in Hawthorn has heard about Yummy Mummy classes, and they’re interested in me branching out and running some classes from there as well as Hunt’s. I feel quite flattered!

Tomorrow I’m going to spend the day cleaning. Vacuuming, dusting, mopping, scrubbing - dammit, I’m doin’ it all! I’m also thinking about throwing a lot of things away, and listing a bunch of stuff on eBay. I’m feeling a love/hate relationship with the idea of it, but I’m loving the notion of a clean house, as the filthy one I have at the moment is messing with my mind. Mr Dog is going on a big walk (with Miss M and I), and I’m doing a leg workout, but only with bodyweight (as commanded by my osteo) … insert me biting my nails right here!

So there you go … an update with only a brief mention of my knee. Definitely an improvement on the last couple of posts, which, as I read them back spell a speedy descent into insanity. I was going to write slow descent, but it was clearly quite rapid. I also spoke with my bank about my home loan today, and laid the groundwork for making an offer on the apartment on the weekend … aaaaah! I’m rapidly discovering anything to do with buying anything has a “but” attached to it. Hopefully I’ll get to the point where I ask enough dumb questions and finally feel more like an adult than a fifteen year old pretending to be one.

Today I’m loving: my super cheap Eskimo jacket which is like a wearable hot water bottle

There’s nothing quite like continuous pain to make you a pain in the butt. I’ve lost my temper with close members of my family, thought about running away from my job, have stopped riding my bike - and generally feel like a total loser. I had to cancel a session this afternoon because I just couldn’t cope with the idea of doing it. But I hadn’t been home except to work for an hour since 5.40am, and felt like I needed a long lie down. Instead I had a shot of Absolut while cooking dinner. Ah, sweet liquor numbs the pain (that’s a quote from the Simpsons - not me - I swear!)

Last night I dreamed about buying the most amazing house right on a beach. It was so far away from Miss M’s school we had to leave home four hours before the bell rang, and had to keep rebuilding the sandbar outside. It was huge, right on the water and also filthy (perfect for a domestic tragic like myself!). I also think it was in really bad repair. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a real estate dream, and I’m not sure what it means. I absolutely loved the house, even though it made my life a total nightmare. Hopefully not a portent of things to come.

I’ve just orchestrated Anzac Day so I only work in the evening. Hooray! And now I’m going to cook some polenta to go with the sauce Miss M and I made. If only we had some kind of chocolate in the house, I’d be a happier woman …

Today I’m loving: a toss up between Clive for the Impressionist tickets, and Jade - just for being awesome

(PS - thanks for putting up with my whinging)

Last night, for the first time in more months than I care to count, I went out. Miss M stayed with Michael, and I headed off with James to our cousin Dan’s birthday party at a restaurant in St Kilda. We’d been expecting a big affair, with Dan’s sisters and parents, but were quite flattered to find we were two of only ten attendees. It’s funny, because we haven’t seen Dan a lot since we were kids, but have heaps in common - especially when we’re drinking alcohol.

I don’t know if it’s watching so many episodes of Sex and the City where the characters talk rapturously about New York, but as I was coming home in a cab, I was really struck by how gorgeous Melbourne is. It was drizzling, so everything was covered in a slightly misty haze, but the waterfront, the lights of the MCG, the seediness of Swan Street - it’s all beautiful. Coloured lights on the car rental place at Richmond station - gorgeous. The subtle lighting at Miss M’s school, highlighted by soft rain - spectacular.

I had the sweetest cab driver who stopped the meter at eighteen dollars. I think he felt it was more than a girl should pay for a fare, and even argued with me when I tried to give him a tip. I won in the end though.

So my evening out was over just after 10pm. Because my inner workings are tuned to nanna time, that’s pretty much perfect in my book. Sadly I have to trade Miss M for a sleep in - and as tragic as it sounds, I’d take her over sleep any day. I guess that’s why it’s months since I’ve been out …

Today I’m loving: my red trenchcoat

I can’t remember where I read it, but it seems when professional athletes are injured, they often rely on the expertise of psychologists to keep them from becoming depressed during their layoff. Now I’m not insinuating I’m any kind of professional athlete, but this morning I started to experience a modicum of depression stemming from the somewhat unglamorous injury to my left knee.

I’m hoping the fresh degree of pain is mainly due to the hardcore osteopathy I underwent on Thursday, but I’m fairly sure I didn’t help matters while stretching one of my clients yesterday and causing a momentary yet crystalline burst of agony. I did manage to hold in the requisite expletive though, which was a distinct improvement on last time. Anyway, today I’ve been finding walking without favouring my left side hard, walking fast impossible, and various other things like standing up, sitting down - anything involving knee flexion really - much more difficult than someone with any kind of physical ability should.

So, in this time of desperation I’ve turned to my own crack squad of experts. I choose not to use one, but three therapists. The first is St John’s Wort - my favorite herbal remedy which has helped me through various hard times in the not too distant past. It also (perhaps psychosomatically) works almost instantly (in my case, anyway), so I’m hoping by tomorrow I won’t have the urge to take off anyone’s head just because I feel like a total loser. Case in point, Mr Dog wagged his tail against my knee this morning and I went berserk. Happily, we made up soon afterwards.

My second expert - Series 5 of Sex and The City. I love this show. I love the clothes (oh how I love those clothes!), the writing, New York - and seeing other women have trouble with men. I think I ploughed through five episodes this afternoon, and feel much better for it.

The third and most controversial member of my team - Miss M’s bought birthday cake. From Coles, with an ingredient list featuring absolutely nothing without a number in brackets behind it, it has now been completely devoured. By me. That’s right, last week when my training had me feeling better than I can remember in a long time, I was eating so healthily it was disgusting even me. Now I can’t do anything, I’ve resorted to eating 3/4 of a shocking, shocking cake.

So there you have it. I’m not sure what any of this says about me, but hey, a girl’s gotta do … you know the rest.

Today I’m loving: any part of my body still working properly

Ah irony. Today I decided to forget about the apartment I’ve been waiting to hear about for nearly eleven weeks. Last time I spoke to the agent, he was so rude I couldn’t face making another enquiry, so I mentally wiped it out of my mind. I got back from a trip to the supermarket this afternoon to find a message on my phone saying the apartment is open next Saturday.

Did cutting it loose make it happen? I know that’s probably crap, but it really seemed that way. When I started looking for real estate, I bought a statue of Ganesh, a Hindu god responsible for removing obstacles and smoothing the path of new ventures. This afternoon someone asked me about the statue, and I mentioned he wasn’t working out too well. Ganesh clearly felt the need to redeem himself, because less than an hour later the call came.

So next Saturday between 4 and 4.30pm, please pump out some positive thoughts for me as I jostle with other potential buyers and … who knows?

Miss M’s cupcakes were eaten with gusto today by her classmates, and my kitchen is still a disaster area with traces of hot pink icing and cake batter in the most unlikely places. She’s now lying on her Bratz couch (a birthday present from last year) with curlers in her hair, an odd mix of young and old, thanks to those freaky white cylinders. I’ll be interested to see whether she’ll be able to put up with the requisite pain required to sleep with them in. But I have a feeling her desire for curly hair will mean she’s willing to endure anything.

Today I’m loving: the Cosmopolitan I had with dinner - and Leis’s most recent email!

At least some of the rumours flying around the gym were answered today, when the new management held a meeting for the staff. At the risk of being overly optimistic, it all sounds good. The level of promotion for the club, and opportunities for education sounded really appealing. Certainly for the moment, things look positive, which makes me happy, because I really didn’t love the idea of leaving my beloved workplace for somewhere new.

I’ve just put hot pink icing and little tiny flowers on 34 cupcakes, and although the icing went everywhere, they look pretty damn cool. I’ve had to put them in the oven as Pilchen proofing, but the door won’t shut properly, and part of me is terrified she’ll launch herself up from the floor and eat all except one of the cakes. You may scoff, but that tiny cat is exceptionally capable!

My knee is still annoying, but I have an appointment with my osteo tomorrow. He won my heart today by giving me ten minutes of treatment before my yoga class, as I was a little nervous about my capacity to teach. After yesterday’s Downward Dog debacle, I avoided anything remotely like that, and stuck to a lot of standing or lying poses instead, which worked really well. For anyone interested in anatomy, my meniscus is the issue, although whether it’s the lateral or medial I’m not sure. According to Michael, it’s temporary, which is a word I love to hear when injured.

I’m working later, but I’m tempted to go and eat barramundi before I have to ride in again. Miss M has gone out to Box Hill, so I won’t be seeing her ’til after school tomorrow. Yes, I think that’s what I’ll do.

Today I’m loving: Erase and Rewind by The Cardigans

As I was casually lying on the floor last night, watching a “boy from wrong side of the tracks meets privileged girl” movie with Miss M, the phone rang. “Yeah, what’s so great about that?” I can almost imagine you asking. Picture a supposedly fit personal trainer getting up off the floor, twisting their knee in an odd direction, and hearing two of the most loud and hideous pops known to human kind, followed by pain rating about 8 on the Richter scale.

In fabulous irony, whoever was on the phone had hung up, or wasn’t talking - whatever, I had wrecked my knee for no good reason. If it had been a cute guy - maybe then it would’ve been okay.  But he would’ve had to have been super cute. So I tested whether I could put weight on it - affirmative. Pushed on it to see if it hurt - negative. But there was a weird sensation inside the joint - heavy and warm, but not in a good blanket kind of way.

I was most concerned about being able to ride my bike - essentially if I can’t, I’m in big trouble. Happily, riding didn’t cause a problem. Running was out today, which was disappointing, because I was going to try and break 5k’s, but that’s cool, I’m in a zen period, and I can handle it. Everything was going brilliantly until I was teaching my Yummy Mummies class, and got into position to demonstrate Downward Facing Dog, which made my knee slightly rotate, crunch, and me fall to the floor with a loud expletive. I imagine this was slightly concerning for the women involved, but I quickly explained, while cradling my poor knee to my body. For the rest of the class, I was slightly less vigorous about demonstrating. It’s still warm and heavy, and I have a feeling if that feeling doesn’t go away tomorrow, I’m going to be visiting my wonderful osteopath for some treatment.

In a truly dodgy segue, it’s Miss M’s eighth birthday on Thursday. She’s very excited, in a way only a child can be about a birthday. I feel a sense of “meh, whatever”, whereas she’s over the moon about the whole thing. One of the most important birthday rituals is the baking of cupcakes - many, many cupcakes - to take to school. Last year, because I made them for her party as well, I baked over 65. Happily, this year, only 34 had to be made. I got off lightly.

Pilchen, who is addicted to carbohydrate, and clearly needs a dietary therapist, nearly ruined last year’s efforts by stealing a cupcake in a lightening raid. Luckily it was rescued before damage was done, so this year, I made sure she was locked away safely before I put the cakes on the table to cool. I was pouring the batter for the second batch into the pans, when I had to check something in the living room. I discovered Mr Dog had decided to follow in the filthy cat’s footsteps and had stolen a cake from the table. Who says animals help to relieve stress?

He had the good grace to look chastened as I locked him out, then safely stowed the cakes in an animal proof zone, where they’re staying until they’re iced tomorrow and taken away on Thursday. Happily, I was able to stretch the second batch to make up for the missing one, or that dog would’ve been toast. Or maybe brioche. Or is it cake?

Today I’m loving: the chicken soup I made which accidentally turned into congee, and was even better than I’d hoped

Anyone who’s read my previous posts will know I love my bike. Recently though, it’s become apparent it seriously needs a service. Conveniently, my local shopping centre’s bike store has a half price service deal at the moment, so I rang them on Friday to see if I could drop it in. Inconveniently, I couldn’t find a time when I could leave it there overnight and pick it up again before I needed to ride it to work. I’d pretty much resigned myself to riding with heaps of noise, and dodgy brakes, but this morning I thought about what needed to be done and knew I could do it myself. I just really didn’t want to.

But I got a huge bucket of soapy water, a couple of old towels and started cleaning it. The last time I had it serviced, the guy in the bike shop told me 80% of services are usually cleaning, so I scrubbed ’til it sparkled, and damn it looked good. The dodgy brakes were because of severely worn pads, so I replaced them, then got a tub of grease (and couldn’t help thinking about Groundskeeper Willie from the Simpsons saying “grease me up, woman”) and covered my chain with goo. Finally I chopped off the foam on the handlebars, which was held on with rubber bands, and put on new handle covers.

When I rode into work this afternoon, it could have been on a brand new bike. Silent. Speedy. Clean. I deliberately took a route with a big hill, just so I could fang up it. And fang I did. I can’t believe the difference, and am almost hanging out to ride in again tomorrow morning.

Quel tragique!

Today I’m loving: yeah, it’s my bike, okay

Life is funny. Or “funny”. Yesterday I arrived at work to discover a letter sticky taped to the reception desk, telling everyone who works at Hunt’s that the club has been sold, and as of Monday will be owned by a Canadian chain of gyms. It said that all staff would be re-employed by the new owners, which is great, but neglected to mention anything about the personal training arrangements - which meant the whole crew of trainers was thrown into some kind of insane flux.

My trainer (and hero) Steve was totally unfazed. The day before when I’d trained with him, he’d speculated about a sale. I’d scoffed, but was obviously forced to eat my words less than twelve hours later. Another guy was on the phone looking for space for a studio within minutes. I had three clients to deal with, and just wanted to run into the changerooms and cry.

Call me old fashioned, but I honestly believe if you have a group of people working out of your premises who are paying you a large sum of money to do so, you need to let them know when something radical is happening. Especially if it might change their business completely - for instance, not being able to work out of said premises anymore. I guess my impending tears were partly because of terror (loss of income, not having my clients anymore), and partly due to a sense of betrayal.

So yet again, I find myself in a place of disturbing acceptance. No one knows what’s going on, so it’s pointless worrying. I had my requisite period of mourning the past yesterday, and whatever happens, it could well turn out to be a positive thing.

I found it quite funny that my first reaction to potential financial doom was the overwhelming urge to go out and spend heaps of money on clothes. I stifled that urge, and ran 4.3k on the treadmill instead. Then I bought five action movies to remind me that an ass kicking attitude is the only way to go. So if the new owners want to have a martial arts tournament to the death on a remote island at any stage, I’m ready for them.

The wonderfully ironic thing about it all is I only just realised yesterday was Friday the 13th.

Today I’m loving: running nearly thirteen k’s this week and still being able to walk!