It has been somewhat of an epic weekend here at the Chez. We had a birthday – I got the gift wrong again in case anyone was wondering. And yes, that was me walking down Crown Street on Friday morning in the pouring rain to American Apparel, for nothing it appears.
On Saturday night I had eight young teenage girls sleeping over. They have not previously slept over because back in the day, her sister before her organised a sleepover and we did not have the foresight to quarantine them downstairs. Hence The Artist and I could not sleep. At the time we were both working like mad things and were already severely stressed and sleep deprived. Let us just say that we did not put our best foot forward at 3am and we might have seemed like two potentially psychopathic serial killers. Ever since ours has been the house of non-sleepover legends. They have stayed away like the place has no wifi.
Koda was also excited that we were having guests and on the afternoon walk decided he should be in dress-up when the girls arrived. This is his Mike Tyson.
So the Chez turned into a mini B&B – I had blow-up beds aplenty and did some heavy lifting of the dining room table with Miss17 to ready the place. Things have changed somewhat from a few years ago and I can literally sleep through a freight train coming through the room on rotation. The Artist not so much but we all survived with good humour. The mountain of washing and linen that has resulted has not left me in such high spirits but this has been counteracted this afternoon by my warm bed, a cup of tea, the Olympics and a bag of Fritos. I also had chocolate cake for breakfast. Because I’m an adult and I can. Koda came barracking for chips but it was not on the cards for him. After loads of washing I was not setting myself up for forensic poop cleanup.
We then watched the Gold Coast Titans vs the New Zealand Warriors because Jarryd Hayne had his own camera. He was on the side for a good 20 minutes. I mentioned to The Artist that he could at least have taken off his shirt and made it a worth while experience. He is still cross because he feels like his great love Jonathan Thurston is being gazzumped by Hayne’s very large pay packet. I have explained to him that Thurston needs a good manager to negotiate for him and that it is not Hayne’s fault and that he should bear him no ill will. The chewing gum whilst the camera was dedicated to him on the sideline wasn’t helping endear him either.
And that is the thing about with living with The Artist. Sometimes you have to explain things that are obvious to other people. And sometimes you never know when something surprising is about to be said. Like when he commented that Manu Vatuvei looks like one of his cousins. I’m struggling with this one, naturally. He then rewound the game and paused on Manu’s face. Struggling………
And then he mentioned that when he took Miss14 to soccer this morning he arrived at the wrong field. But it wasn’t his fault because another father was already parked there and was out of his car waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. Steve (we’ll just say his name is Steve) commented that he could see Miss14 had recently polished her soccer boots. As you can imagine she has the filthiest boots on the team – The Artist then countered that with an old school rugby team rivalry joke that Steve’s team were too busy cleaning their boots to win a game against his school team (The Artist went to a school that actually could have been called Thug Life High School had it not already been called Highlands). Whilst they were trading insults and time was moving on, they realised that no-one else was arriving because they were in fact at the wrong field. The Artist is blaming Steve – because he was there already. I have again tried to explain to The Artist that he drove to the wrong field, had Steve been there or not, he still would have been at the wrong field. Sometimes it’s a hard life being the clever one.
One that note I bid you a good week, may the sun shine and the stupid be few and far between.
Love and light