It's Friday 1 August 2014. It's winter in NZ and a working day for me.
5.30am: wake up, but am NOT HAPPY. Lie in the dark, mentally turning over the questionable choices I made last night. We were sending off a colleague who is moving to London; predictably, one beer lead to many beers (the pub was going off! I was having a good time! meeting people! gossiping!), lead to Mickey Dees en route home (I am not proud), lead to furry mouth at 5.30am.
6.15am: finally bring myself to get out of bed. Shake some bikkies into the cats’ bowls and discover the mess I made filling up the biscuit container when a bit boozled last night. Turn on the shower. It’s warmer outside this morning thank god (about 10 degrees celcius) so the bathroom isn’t completely frigid and I can disrobe without squeaking.
6.25am: flick on the kettle, desperate for tea.
|THIS IS FIRST-RATE COMPELLING PHOTOJOURNALISM, RIGHT HERE|
6.26am: Tabitha hauls in her newest victim through the cat flap. She has recently graduated to trapping earthworms, crickets being in short supply this time of year. Not wanting to waste a good worm (or watch Tab torture a worm on my kitchen floor), I don a pair of jandals to deliver the worm to our compost bin outside. Jandals, dressing gown and no knickers – good thing the neighbouring house is empty at the moment because I am a sight to behold. I choose not to take a picture of that – count yourself lucky.
|TABBY AND VICTIM AND THE TERRIBLE STATE OF THE FLOORING IN MY KITCHEN. AT LEAST WORMS ON AN ALREADY DECREPIT FLOOR AREN'T REALLY A BIG DEAL|
6.30am: flick on the TV to catch some Commonwealth Games coverage while scoffing breakfast and drying my hair etc. NZ has just won a bronze medal in the Men’s Floor (Gymnastics) and a Gold in the Women’s Time Trial (Cycling) – go Kiwis! The coverage is largely of lawn bowls this morning and it’s not quite as thrilling to follow as, say, 100m sprints or the swimming.
6.40am: P emerges from the bedroom, grumbling. As many bad life decisions as I made last night, he made a few more out on the town a bunch of graduates from his office, following a training session he ran for them. He likes to think he can keep up with a bunch of 23 year olds, but looking at him this morning I have my doubts.
7.15am: I have managed to dress and make myself mostly presentable. I am wearing opaque tights, a red silk mullet dress fresh from the drycleaners, a black blazer with a sheer back (sounds very odd when written like that) . P however is struggling to get his stuff together and is yelling for help to find a grey cardigan. I don’t know where he thinks I might have secretly stashed it, but if it’s not in the drawers or on the wardrobe rack, he’s well out of luck.
|OF NOTE: (1) MY HAIR STAYED LIKE THIS UNTIL I WAS APPROX. 5 STEPS OUT MY FRONT DOOR INTO THE FOG. REST OF DAY HAVE BEEN SHAGGY BEAST.|
(2) THE STATE OF THE LIVING ROOM BEHIND ME. THIS IS REAL LIFE, PEOPLE. PEPPER GRINDERS AND ALL.
7.30am: the Great Man Cardi Hunt of 2014 has proved unfruitful and most unsympathetically I throw another sweater at P, telling him to put a sock in it. We manage to depart the house for work.
7.30-8am: walk to work with P. He’s on rare form today and, upon hearing about my DiTL post day, he announces ‘Well I’m looking hot today so you should definitely take a picture of me for the internet’. He raced over to a wall nearby and struck a pose and I nearly died laughing – he thought he was taking the mickey out of magazine styling, but it is so completely fashion blogger I nearly wet my pants.
|I HOPE NONE OF YOU THINK THIS IS FOR SERIOUS. P'S TONGUE IS FIRMLY IN HIS CHEEK - THIS WAS DONE IN A HEARTBEAT AND WE RAN ON, LAUGHING TIL MY FACE HURT. I'VE ONLY JUST NOW NOTICED ALLTHE CIGGIE BUTTS AT HIS FEET, WHICH MAKES IT EVEN BETTER|
8am: arrive at work. Debrief with my secretary, who was also a party to yesterday evening’s shenanigans. She lasted longer than I did but is regretting it!
8-10.30: workity work work. Nothing thrilling, believe you me: drafting, emailing, considering, reviewing. At about 9.45 I get up to go to the printer and realise I have a terrible static situation going on with my dress. Slip or no slip, it’s a clinger which is just annoying because the colour is so nice (a change from my usual drab wardrobe choices).
|THIS PICTURE IS A FAIL AT ILLUSTRATING CLINGAGE, MOSTLY DEMONSTRATING INCREDIBLY WEIRD BODY SHAPE INSTEAD? IT'S THE ANGLE, I PROMISE! THAT'S NOT A GIANT BOOBSHELF!|
10.30: weekly morning tea for the firm with speeches for colleague S, departing to the UK. Stuff face with a scone, a cheerio (not the cereal, the sausage-y type!), carrot sticks and scarper and take a wee sammie & pie for the road (I don’t eat lunch on Fridays as I usually make a piggy of myself at morning tea). Tell the firm’s chef I love his work.
10.45-12.30: more work, until M calls me. She wants to go for a wander and a smoothie. We look briefly at cases for our cellphones. Mine is new and if I don’t get a case, I’ll probably destroy it. No dice making a purchase though, I want a pretty one! I order a green smoothie, which I feel good about (if I don’t consider the quantities of frozen yoghurt in it).
5.10pm: nip upstairs where Friday Night Drinks are happening. Look at beersies and feel ill. Say goodbye for the final time to S and depart to meet P to scarper up to Ponsonby Road. Call my sister K on route, because we have to debrief about the amazing video someone from her hockey team posted on FB in which she is doing the Fat Amy Mermaid for her team's amusement. So funny, but she's worried her students might see it (she's a high school teacher).
6pm: Grand Central Bar, Ponsonby. We're meeting R and PW for drinks pre-dinner. R has recently been to Austria for work but also managed to spend time in the UK with friends en route so I squeeze her for gossip. It's warm enough that we're able to sit outside under the heaters and enjoy some fresh air for a change.
7ish: we get our call from Orphan’s Kitchen,
which doesn’t take reservations. We rush
in and order wine and tasty treats.
Highlights included smoked porae with a celeriac and green apple slaw, YUM. Hipster central - so many good beards and artfully mismatched water jugs. I love it. They also have a very tasty wine list, highly recommend.
|A WEE SIGN ON THE EXTERIOR WALL OF THE BAR THAT MADE ME SMILE.|
9ish: finished with dinner, we wander down the road to Chapel Bar and have another bottle of wine between four, because FRIDAY NIGHT. PJ and his new girlfriend are supposed to be meeting us but they're still at dinner elsewhere, and are trying to scam us into going to the city for dancing. We're not quite in that zone!
10.30ish: wave goodbye to R & PW and walk home arm-in-arm with P. It's about a 15 minute walk, and while I don't remember the conversation, I do remember laughing most of the way home.
10.45: open the door to find Tabby and Cokes on the end of the bed, watching us mournfully. They forgive me when I fill up their bowls.