With characteristic bombast she’s thrown herself into her new role at the bureaucratic behemoth of the Australian government, and overenthusiastically vowed to save the country one paperclip at a time.

No sooner had she made this vow, did Public Service Girl come down with the chicken pox.

However it’s not too severe a case and she’s been able to stop the itching intermittently to chuckle to herself about the irony (ahh, those ironies) of having just gotten her first grown up job, her first grown up apartment, and now, such a childish disease (yes, she’s had a deprived childhood, missing out on all the usual illnesses as well as the original Star Wars).

She must also be the only Aussie ever to actually plead with the doctor to not give her a certificate off work;

“But, doc, the country needs me! What, do you think those papers will get shuffled all by themselves?! And that those pencils will be pushed out of their own accord?! I think not! This country and its multitude of paperclips needs me, damn it!”

The doc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and ordered her to 100 hours of solitude, or until the spots subside. At least this she gets to spend in said grown up apartment, which is dark but charming (“Like our dear Public Service Girl herself” her biographers will write in years to come) in the swanky end of a skanky Sydney suburb.

Contagiously yours,

Paula