Because it's Meekatharra, we've evolved a completely insane "plan" (I use the word loosely) for the bush camp. The gist of it is that George has to wait for someone at the aged care hostel to die before he can move in there (Gary: "So which one should we knock off?"), Gary and I want to move into the bush camp NOW (because we are both Pisces and have no concept of things like careful planning or reality), and, um, something else, can't remember (today was very complicated).
Anyway, we seem to have evolved some kind of arrangement where Gary and I rent the bush camp and take over while George stays there too; when his unit at the hostel becomes available, our rent will go towards the purchase of the compound. This actually works out well for everyone, except that George LOVES talking and will drive us insane. Gary and I came up with a practical solution, which is to put George in Gary's caravan next to the compound, and then, while George is sleeping, move it a few yards further away each night into the wilderness. We will have to find little projects for him to do in the caravan to prevent him from fooling around repairing hinges and things in the compound.
"Think of it as having another slightly annoying pet," I said to Gary. Because there is a risk of snakes and stuff out bush, I may have to set up an electric dog control line around the compound - it's a wire that you lay in the ground, and the dogs wear collars which tingle their neck if they try to cross it. I tried one on myself at Brian's place, it doesn't hurt, it just feels slightly uncomfortable for a second, and teaches the dogs to stay within the home zone. So we could put one on George to keep him from trying to come in and fix hinges.
So that's the state of the madness at the moment. Gary is in Geraldton on some kind of fire brigade captain training thing, so when he gets back on Sunday we'll go see George and see how much more complicated we can make things.
I have shifted something like seventy tons of dirt from the front yard and am totally knackered but it's now obssessive-compulsively level and ready for the final onslaught of new front steps, proper fencing and plants. So hopefully in a couple of months the place will be ready to rent out at an exorbitant rate to desperate mining companies. Or I can use it as a hideout to escape from Gary and George talking to me about the fuel consumption rate of the generator.
Maybe I'll put dog control collars on both of them.
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