Friday day:
The work, it is never-ending. Bah.
Friday night:
Hooray! Happy hour finishes at 8pm, and I make it to the bar (again) at 7.52pm. The bartender finally deigns to approach me, and before taking my order, checks his watch. No checking required, barboy! The Hour, it is still Happy! Ignoring his rude rude bartending manners, I order half a dozen drinks. Then I think of the rest of my table. Shouldn’t they be Happy too? I order half a dozen more.
Saturday day:
Urgh. Why must we get up? Meeting people at 9.30am. Make it out of house by 9.15am (they are 40 minutes drive away). Good! Practically early! Pull out mobile phone to send text message to (hopefully) similarly-afflicted drinking buddy. Notice phone is caked in mysterious blood red stains. Shudder as a vague memory surfaces, involving drinking my way through bottled cocktail-themed alcopops whilst text messaging various cohorts.
Saturday night:
Mmmm, movies dark. But noisy! Why so noisy?
Sunday day:
Off to state forest for a spot of 4-wheel driving. Lots of sliding around in mud towards the edges of steep mountain tracks, simultaneously delighting and terrifying Mr. T (who is driving his pride and joy). Get a fit of the giggles. Reprimanded for not taking this seriously enough. Bottom of ute slams heavily into a large rock which has risen out of the track from nowhere. Complain bitterly about shock to spine. Reprimanded for taking this all too seriously.
Sunday night:
Where does all this washing come from? Where are the trousers I want to wear to work tomorrow? Why is that cat walking on that insurance document, doing the tarantella with his muddy feet? Why is the weekend almost over already?
