So there I was partaking in a little light reading with the Adelaide Advertiser (newspaper) on my lap and a cup of tea steaming on the table.
I love holidays. They remind you not only of the existence of a word like "linger" but also of what it actually feels like.
And so I lingered a lot longer than I normally would when reading the paper...all the way, in fact, through to the classifieds of the large Saturday edition.
My favourites are the Lost and Found sections...so important that I felt the need to honour them with a capital.
Sometimes, when I am on holidays, I like to see if I can match a Lost ad with a Found one: it gives me immense satisfaction and a feeling of order being restored!
No such luck this time. No, there was another, much larger gem waiting for me.
Among the cats, the cockatiels and the hearing aids was a missing will. Interesting.
They lady owner of the will was named, as was her husband - Brian Button, who was searching for it. Brian's phone number and address on Cross Road were also printed in the ad.
Four entries further down the same column, and there is an ad for a missing wheel. "Surely this is a joke," I thought to myself, as I read on.
But no, apparently the same Brian Button had a missing WHEEL as well as a missing WILL. "Oh! What are the chances?" I exclaimed.
And, by some extraordinary coincidence, both ads have the same phone number, address and...hang on a minute: they have exactly the same WORDING! Except for that crucial noun: will and wheel.
My eyes flickered up and down between both ads. Both ads that mentioned Brian Button.
Suddenly, something that looked a lot like common sense showed its face in my mind...
I am now convinced that scoundrel Brian Button killed his wife after loosening the nuts on just one wheel of her car. The wheel spun off as she rounded a bend on Cross Road (which is actually straight as a die, but we can dismiss that for the purposes of these "facts"). Poor Mrs Button hit a brick wall, while the wheel spun into the bushes and its whereabouts remain a mystery to this day. Also in a location of a very mysterious persuasion is Mrs Button's will.
That's why supposedly unassuming old Brian - who no doubt prunes his white roses with military precision and waves at the neighbours on Sundays while muttering curses under his stale, anchovy breath - is placing these two ads.
There is no other explanation.
Of course, there could have been a Colombian working in the Advertiser classies department...
Rosa Rodriguez: "Sorry, sir. What was dat?"
Brian Button: "It's a will, a missing will."
Rosa: "Oh, j-yes, I see now sir. A weel, of course a weel! Ay, ay, ay!"
(Much laughter and mariachi music in the background).
Speeling, people. It's almost as important as taking a stand against multicultural stereotypes!
By the way, if you have become increasingly frustrated at the randomness of these posts - and their distinct lack of IVF-ness - please don't be mad. There is just not much to share at this point. I am waiting for my period to arrive...we have made up the spare bed and stocked up on gin. Then, the doc will schedule another blood test and we can get another embie put in! In the meantime, I am sorry, but the randomness must reign.