I hate Senate holidays. There’s nothing to do and there’s no media waiting in groups out the front of the house to do stunts at every day. Not only are Senate holidays boring as anything, I hate the ever-present threat of having to go down to the electorate office and I hate having to look busy to prevent Susan from enacting that threat onto me. One thing I’ve started to do is walk around at all times with a notepad under my arm and pencil behind my ear, squinting my eyes like I’m thinking and murmuring policy under my breath. Susan asked to look in the notepad once but I told her it was secret political business and she wouldn’t understand, for which she made me draw a cross in one of the three warning boxes on the whiteboard in the kitchen. I hate that.
I hate Senate holidays on their own as it is, but I hate them even more when they coincide with school holidays because my kids are home with me. Two days ago my son snuck up quietly behind me while I was looking in the fridge for the devon and shouted out, “BOAT SEEKERS!” I jumped literally out of my skin and did a little bit of wee in my pants. It took my son about four minutes to get the footage out of his mobile phone and onto YouTube, and I was on the phone to Conroy reaffirming my commitment to the web filter that very evening.