RACHEL'S COLUMNS

These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age

December's forecast is uncool and very cloudy
3rd December 2004

We wouldn't be here if a large extraterrestrial body hadn't removed the dinosaurs, so the size of our brains has nothing to do with natural selection, it was just a lucky break. December is the month where we get plenty of evidence of how primitive we humans really are. Lately, all I'm hearing is, "Got up on the wrong side of the bed Rach?" The wrong side of the bed is the left. According to superstition that goes back to Roman times, it's unlucky to get out of bed on the left side because that's where evil spirits dwell. If you get out of bed on that side, their grumpy moodiness will stay with you through your waking hours. To be the butt of malevolent spirits is bound to have you refusing to eat your vegetables, bashing your skull repeatedly into a filing cabinet and once you see that you can get away with it, saying whatever you damn well want to whoever crosses your path.

I guess that's what's happened to Labor leader Mark Latham and Senator Stephen Conroy – they've stirred up a few too many evil spirits and they're coming home to roost. Along with the all the other "roosters", "mangy dogs" and "dead parrots" that live in the back left paddock. By now I would have hoped that the adolescents at Labor Headquarters would have figured out that one foot on the ground and one up each others arses is not only uncomfortable but it also casts a weird and scary shadow. The image is one of a conga-line of…what was it again?

But let's be honest here; yes, perhaps I am speaking to people in a snarling, keep-off-the-grass, tone but I'm not the only one! December is the cranky month, when we revert to wobbling legumes as we realise another year is nearly over and our monumental ineptitude has brought us two steps forward and forty-five back. Or is it just me? Despite our large brains we remain stuck in our child-like beliefs and habits. We may no longer be wary of stepping on the cracks on the way home from school but we believe that if we set our goals, make a plan and obey the rules our acne will eventually disappear and we'll be grown ups, allegedly.

In December, we ask ourselves the same familiar questions – under our breath as we're falling asleep. Who am I? The same person as I was last year except I've finally learnt how to open a packet of Twisties without using my teeth. What am I here for? To iron – I'm exceptional at ironing and folding. I can spend days folding and refolding towels until they look just like the ones on display in those home-wares stores where everything smells like thrown-up vanilla milk-shake. But I don't think that ironing is a bona fide calling.

No you idiot, why are you on the planet? I forget. I thought I was here to eat, then I thought I was here to accessorise, but lately I think I'm here to slap people on the back when they're choking because I'm terrific at it. But that's not really a reason for living is it? One friend suggested he was here to make bucket-loads of money because it would give him power – possibly, but I'd rather have an evening-bag-full of imagination. Power is not a good colour on me.

If I had a magic wand what would I change right now? My medication – because there are no magic wands and if I can see one in my hand it means I'm hallucinating.

What makes me unhappy? Dog poo all over the lawn in front of where I live. What makes me happy? When the dog's owner gets tangled in the dog's designer leash, trips and lands face first into yesterday's load. What lies beyond death? I don't care as long as it's calorie-free and I never have to dial Directory Assistance again. My bed is my space shuttle, from there I can explore the universe and marvel at its limitless possibilities – but I still don't have the answers! I get up on my left side again, damn and greet another cranky December day.