Merry Christmas everyone! Andrew gave me 90 photos from 2009! It is my favourite present so far. He also liked all my presents to him.

Goodbye Tiny. You were the best mouse in the world.

Tiny is dying.

She was pretty listless today, because of the heat I thought. I moved her into the bathroom where it was coolest. When Andrew came home from work I went to check on her and noticed blood in her wheel. She was underneath her wheel, in the corner.

I thought it might be old blood, because she's been worrying her tumour a lot, but then I realised she was bleeding. I yelled for Andrew and he came in and shooed me out. I'm not sure if it was to protect me, or to make sure I didn't get in the way.

There was blood all over her cage. I called the vet and they said to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, put a bit of iodine on and then maybe something around the wound to stop her from chewing it. They suggested bringing her in to "see if [we] wanted to take that next step", which is vet-speak for putting her to sleep.

Sarah has been wonderful, telling us to give her fluids and food and let her rest. I don't know if Tiny will survive tonight, but if she does it will be because Sarah has given us advice on how to keep her alive.

I want Tiny to close her eyes and go to sleep and not wake up, and not feel any pain. She's in a little house made of a Vita Wheats box, cotton balls and gauze. Sometimes she gets up to eat a little banana bread and drink some of the juice we've put in her water bottle. Most of the time she just lies on her bed and breathes.

If breathing is too hard for you Tiny, it's okay to stop. I love you.

Goodbye Squash.

Remember, remember, the fourth of November:
Dinosaurs, space and robots.
I see no reason
Why the birth of this vegan
Should e'er be forgot!

Rargh! I'm trying to turn on Andrew's desktop computer while he's out of the house at a co-op meeting, and I keep getting an error message on the screen "No Signal - Analog". I can't figure out why! Everything that's connected to the screen is connected to tower. Except for the sound bit, but I don't need that and it shouldn't stop it from turning on. I don't know what to do!!

Fixed!

I was sitting on the computer in my underwear, thinking "Fuck it is hot," when I realised it was huppast seven and there was supposed to be a cool change coming through at eight and there might be rain and we had clothes drying on the balcony.

So I went to get them in and when I pulled back the curtain and slid back the door and stepped out on to the balcony my first words were, "Oh FUCK!"

It is so fucking hot out there. Jesus. Like soup! And not a tasty soup! I am now happily back in Lauren's old room, which faces south and it deliciously cool and not hot at all. Silly Cassie for thinking so!

There is a fuck-off huge huntsman in the bathroom! I discovered this when I went in to pee this evening. Andrew was downstairs, getting laundry, at the time, which meant I had to spend some very tense moments immobile on the couch, trying to not pee my pants for TWO reasons, as opposed to the regular one reason.

Andrew hasn't managed to catch it - there's apparently enough space for it to hide in the window-slidey groove; we can see one leg dangling - so it's still there. I am making Andrew stand guard whenever I have to use the bathroom.

This is not a good way to celebrate having the house to ourselves! It was supposed to be nakey-time!

Ugh. Dusty.

My birthday has been pretty goddamn awesome. On the Saturday before last, my parents took my sister, Andrew and I out to vegan yum cha cha cha at Bodhi, and then we all went out for a beer at a nearby pub. I like hanging out with my family when Andrew's around - the dynamic is better with him, I think everyone's on their best behaviour - so I have high hopes for Christmas.

Mum and Dad gave me money to go see Wicked with Andrew for my birthday. They gave us enough to get some really good seats. Now we just have to pick the day!

On Monday, my actual birthday, we had drinks at work to celebrate, which was lovely. I took the day off on Friday, and jason drove Andrew and I down to Thirroul spend the night at ali and his house. We had a picnic the next day with the picnic set Andrew's parents gave me, but not before I went to Ever After and bought FIVE books.

Picnics are awesome.

On Saturday we had my birthday party. My cake was nearly fail, but Andrew saved it, and my sister, after hearing at 3pm that my cake was probably going to be a fail cake, made me another one. Which was great as there wouldn't have been enough cake to go round with just the one.

The only downside to the whole evening was that lolol somehow convinced me that I would only need one bottle of creaming soda. Clearly she underestimated the lure of red food colouring, because it was the most in-demand drink of the evening.

I got piles of really cool presents, but I'm afraid the coolest one didn't come until this evening.

ANDREW BOUGHT ME A TUTU. THIS TUTU.

It is pink and full and swishy and awesome and I love it. TUTU!

Thank you to everyone who made my birthday so awesome! Especially to shez and nez who were a) superbly dressed, b) spanakopita queens and c) party pie fiends.

You were my favourite of the wild mice. You were tiny and fearless and so fast. Towards the end you were slower and bigger, thanks to your tumour, but you were still fearless.

Bye 'Mima, love you.

If you're friends with me on Facebook or follow me on Twitter, you will have seen this already, but for some reason I am just outrageously appalled by this and cannot stop talking about it:

Vile Sandilands*: "Right . . . is that the only experience you've had?" to 14 year old girl who was raped when she was 12. Nice, real nice.

Source. You can listen to the audio of it there - it's just as awful as you think it's going to be.

* Real name Kyle Sandilands. He and Jackie O host a morning breakfast radio program of dubious calibre in Sydney.

Friday night, 7pm, MiniJames. Bring a bottle and/or a plate and your lovely selves. See you there?

Remind me to post about:

• My mum
  
• Smooth Talking Stranger by Lisa Kleypas

But for now:

There's this jewellery box at Eastern Flair which I have wanted for MONTHS. It's grey, with pink cherry blossoms, and it has three drawers and lid with a concealed mirror. I love it. It's $149, but I don't care.

The only problem is: I don't have anywhere to put it. Currently, what passes for my dressing table is a low bookshelf Mark (I think) left here when he moved out, and it's way too shallow to accommodate this thing, which is deep and narrow.

There's no where for it to go, but I want it so much, and I'm worried that if I don't buy it now, I'll miss out on my opportunity and regret it for ages.

I think I'm going to end up buying it anyway, because I'm not going going to live here forever . . . I don't know where I'll put it, though, but at least I'll have it and it will be mine.

Ugh. I could never be a Buddhist.

I don't feel like I knew you. You were half-wild, and we never socialised you, and by the time we realised you had a tumour, it was too late. You wouldn't have liked the vet, anyway.

I feel guilty that you died without me knowing. But I think you had the best life anyone could have given you: we left you in peace and you lived and died in a nest with your sisters. It was warm and you liked your bedmates. I don't think human hands could have added to your life.

My mum called me up at work to tell me MJ had died ("Because he was the first pop star you really ever got into") and I smsed Andrew when I heard the news.

I put too much gin in my gin and tonic and now I am pleasantly pickled. Don't stop till you get enough.

Oh Michael. You were so awesome. I used to cry whenever I listened to Heal the World.