I had occasion on Friday to do Faff Around. This is when I decide that I need to walk away from the good people of Apple and not tie myself to a screen. It usually involves some time at the gym, breakfast – you get the gist.
This Friday saw me first off visit the good people at BMW – yes, you heard right, the car needed to home to mama to get brake pads and discs done. My friends on “Good Morning” [our whatsapp group that deals with the insane] agree that my car is there to mess with me and to ensure that I am there to fund the new building that BMW are putting up in Rushcutters Bay starting December. I’m sure within the next nine months my car can think up numerous ways to make that happen.
After a small oversight, having left my Opal Card in my other handbag, The Artist had to come and get me – he was none too pleased having also been sequestered to do the school run with the Misses. This is an activity fraught with stress as neither see the urgency of an 8.15am start.
So once we had landed home after a detour to Centennial Park to let Koda “play puppies” I was somewhat restless and hopped a bus to Randwick to get my nails done – it was time to officially start “Faff Around Friday” and The Artist was not forthcoming with more lifting as he has to keep the home fires at the bank burning.
The nail salon is a multicultural place. My ears have become attuned to the sounds of Vietnamese being spoken while I’m getting buffed and polished and I sit and zone out with an idiotic grin on my face like I know exactly what they’re talking about. However, problem. A middle aged hubbie and wife team were having a pedi. Together. I’m not judging, strange as I find that. But that’s not the thing – it was the blah, blah, blah.
I must be honest, I am barely interested in the mundane of my own life, let alone someone else’s. I had to listen to what was on their shopping list – he whipped out a piece of paper – what order should he shop in? Where was the best place to get the sushi? Should he get a platter? And then the carrots, dear God the carrots! Where could the best carrots could be secured – was it at the fruit shop in Randwick or should he go to Bondi Junction? There were things I would have liked to do to him with those carrots that are not appropriate for this blog.
In case you were wondering I also know all about their children’s sports schedules and what they think of the soccer coach. Let’s just say that if the soccer coach knew, that kid would not be getting any major game time anytime soon.
Unrelated to carrots and soccer he then said something that she didn’t like and so he was asked “to rephrase”. This unfortunately did not end in the “no speaks” with them.
My ears were shattered at this point and I simply couldn’t take any more chances with the public so The Artist was once more asked to come retrieve me. He’s good like that The Artist. And also not interested in the mundane which is why we sometimes don’t have bread, milk and toilet paper in the house. And we discuss logistics on text – like NORMAL PEOPLE!
In case you were wondering, the colour of the day was blue. (Specifically OPI’s Get Ryd Of Thym Blues. You’re welcome).
Love and light