I didn’t have the mongrel fur babies on Friday night, I paid Marlene the local retiree dog-sitter to have them because I was off to trip the light fantastic at The Entrance Leagues Club.
Many moons ago I’d booked tickets to see Pete Murray – my post-separation muso of choice. He barely registered on my radar during my marriage. Weird.
Why The Entrance? I hear you ask … Well I’d left it too long and all the Sydney dates were booked out.
DD thought I was insane to even consider going to Pete Murray because I’d spent the whole day laid out on the bed/couch with a virus.
Right up until 6.30pm he was still sending “Are you SURE? Have you forgotten what happened on my birthday?” texts.
On DD’s birthday I insisted I would be right as rain to celebrate, despite having a horrifying tummy bug. We had a night out of town planned, complete with fancy hotel room. We could have cancelled the night before without incurring a fee, but I insisted we go ahead with it.
I was soooooooo crook.
So he was a bit lairy of taking me to The Entrance to see Pete Murray, especially when The Entrance Leagues Club informed him Pete wasn’t going on stage until 9.30pm … meaning if his last encore was at 11pm, we wouldn’t be home until after midnight.
I downed Codral and insisted we go. I’ve never seen Pete Murray live and I was dead keen.
I was NOT feeling fabulous at 11pm, but decided it would be wise to keep discussion of my discomfort to a minimum in DD’s presence.
Pete was pretty good, it was just an acoustic set and it was drowned out a bit by all the chicks who kept TALKING the whole way through. I was thisclose to asking what the farking hell the two yabbering in front of me were doing there if they weren’t interested in listening to Pete sing. Blardy hell. But I was a bit scared of starting a bitch fight, it being The Entrance Leagues Club and all.
When I finally collapsed in bed, I slept through until 7am because there were no furry mongrels barking at me. I got up for a cold drink to soothe my sore throat then dozed off again until 10am.
DD popped over at noon and took me out for laksa. Asian soups are my go-to when I’m sick. Then he gave me a cuddle and raced home so he could get as far away from my germs as possible.
At 4pm I reluctantly collected the fur babies.
As cruel fate would have it, I had a friend’s farewell dinner last night.
I wasn’t really well enough to go – my throat and eyeballs were really ouchy – but I dosed myself up on Codral again and staggered out into the night.
I ended up having a lovely time, lots of laughter, hugs and discussion of my fear of post-surgery prolapse, until the Codral wore off and I sloped off home.
I’ve dragged myself out of bed briefly to post this, then I’m breaking my number one fur baby rule …
Come on boys, let’s go to bed.
Hope your day is looking more fun than mine.
PS Wish I was going to bed somewhere like the main pic … one day …