So where are we now you ask?
...we dropped in on Matt's cousin (or second cousin, whatever) who works on a big cropping farm between Geraldton and Perth. The original plan was to stay two nights. I know my husband a lot better than that though. Two nights quickly turned to three, then Matt landed a job as chaser bin driver for the contractors harvesting here.
This all seems fine, the experience Matt would love, working on a big place such as this and God knows the money will be handy. But I basically saw red when Matt said we would be here until the end of harvest. Cue hideously angered wife using some choice words, tears and talk of 'drop me at the Perth airport'. A little dramatic, perhaps. The thought did cross my mind I was being ridiculously unreasonable and possibly hormonal and pregnant crazy lady (I'm very much NOT!) but I think I just do not cope with sudden change of plans very well. I am a planner. I need to know what we're doing, where we're going and when. Spanners in works don't work for me. And I am really looking forward to getting home, but also really looking forward to this last leg of our honeymoon journey. It seemed it was all falling apart. Exasperating husband is renowned for pushing dates back, taking longer than anticipated to do anything etc. Exhibit A: we flew home for my niece Violet's christening at Easter and missed the ceremony! I think Matt telling me we were staying here for another week was up there with my most anger and exasperation at him ever. This traveling honeymoon business is marriage building stuff!
Anyway, long story short we are here on the farm until the end of harvest (hopefully only 4-5 days). I have limited dodgy satellite internet, but I do have an oven to cook in (with zero bakeware in a bachelor pad) and a litter of one week old kelpie pups to entertain me. Staying here and working means that our time through Perth, Margaret River and Esperence will be severely cut short, as will our travel time across the Nullabor in order to get home in time for Christmas. We do not want to arrive home on Christmas Eve, I originally planned for the 20th knowing that we would need a few days up our sleeve as what I like to call 'Matt-contingency'. I knew we wouldn't be home on the 20th, that husband of mine likes to go down every track, visit every museum, gaol, lookout and campsite within cooee of him, and talk and talk and talk to everyone we meet. Exasperating man. I think the more exasperating fact is one he points out himself - if he has a truck booked for cattle, be damned if he doesn't have those cattle in the yards, drafted and ready for transport dead on time. I agreed. Then realised he was saying he prides his damn cows above me. Exasperation continues.
For now, I am a harvest widow. Matt and Chris are out the door before 6am and not home until 11pm most nights. I think the kicker in this whole debacle though was me pointing out that we would be here on Monday, me bored out of my brains in the farmhouse, Matt working all day on our supposedly blissful honeymoon. And husband dearest looking blank.
First wedding anniversary.