Not yet desperate housewife

I still have a book I first read as a teenager, Displaced Person by Lee Harding. I think it fascinated me partly because it was set in Melbourne, but also it's part of that odd genre that probably falls within science fiction, in which the world is basically normal but something really odd happens to the protagonist. 'The Time Traveller's Wife,' which I also loved, is a recent example of this.

In Displaced Person, the lead character, a teenage boy, gradually slips into a shadow world. He can't connect with the people in his day-to-day life, is separated from them by something slippery and invisible he calls the interface. He has to discover a whole new way of being in the world, scrounging for food that occasionally slips through the interface and shacking up with a couple of other equally lost souls.

I find I'm moving into a parallel world. In my new world, when someone says 'labour', I don't assume we are about to have a discussion about the forthcoming federal election. We talk about vaginae and pelvises (pelves?) and bodily discharges with alarming nonchalance. When I walk around the city, I think I'm becoming kind of invisible - fellow commuters' eyes kind of slide off me politely.

Thursday mornings I have aquarobics for preggers women. I love it, but I reckon it must look pretty funny, all of us with our protruding bellies swirling around. While we float around on pool-noodles the instructor leads conversations about birth-related matters - today's topic was the second stage of labour. Different positions for labour, not to worry if you poo during labour, and other hitherto undiscussed topics. When I got home there was a message on the answering machine from a company for whom I've been doing some organisational change consulting. I can't tell you how much I have stopped caring about organisational change. They'd made some changes to my recommendations and wanted a meeting with me to ensure I still felt 'ownership' of my report. Very nice of them, but really I wanted to say, 'You can make the report into paper boats for all I care.'

I'm turning into a housewife. Not a terribly houseproud one, I must say - I can't be bothered with all that mucking about with toilet brushes and vacuum cleaners - but I'm pretty good on the cooking and gardening. I've started a vegie garden and a weekly menu roster. This week's menu looks like this:

• Pea and pancetta risotto
• Chicken pie
• Red lentil and tomato soup with baguettes
• Vegie pilaf with chicken and spring vegie salad
• Mini beef and pine nut meatloaves
• Tofu & vegie stirfry with brown rice
• Parmesan crusted snapper with salad

I'm going to have to keep reading the newspapers. I don't think many people will be fascinated by my domestic adventures.