|MAH SUNSHINE WINDOW. I LOVES IT.|
Once upon a time not quite so long ago, odds were I'd be battling off a fairly severe hangover caused by drinking an excess of rubbish white wine and failing to eat anything more substantial than hummus and chips before ingesting the better part of a
These days though, the hangovers tend to be milder. I generally attempt to pace myself. [HA HA MOSTLY LIES]. Or it might possibly be that I now work in an English business where getting blotto post-haste following work on a Friday is not the combined goal of all staff (yes, yes: Kiwi binge drinking culture is contributed to the post-colonial hangover, but it appears we've developed some disturbing binging trends of our own amongst the middle class). I like to eat at restaurants for entertainment that are higher brow than Queen St Burger King these days. BK still has a place in my heart though, don't get me wrong.
Now, I now often wake up on a Saturday before 9 with the ability to function at a higher level than a mashed cabbage. I have a cup of tea in bed. I shower leisurely, start the laundry, then hit the farmer's market for ingredients for brunch and veges for the week. Today, I was blissfully happy with a coffee and a paper, dappled by the spring light venturing through the window left ajar. Knowing that there is no work for two whole days.
Blissful, wasteful and indulgent. There's a snapshot of my life at 29, captured by three little words.
Saturday mornings were, and are, the best.