It’s Saturday: blessed, glorious, Designated Lie In Day. So, I have a lie in but somehow sitll make it to the shops for 9am. I then head straight to collect my father-in-law who has offered to help me move and fit my new washing machine. There’s a high chance I could fit it on my own. Move it? Not so much.
You might recall that I had intentions of leaving that new washing machine in the garage until such time as its service was required. Well, that time arrived last night when the old washing machine decided to make a sound like sand grinding through gears, and then couldn’t even be arsed to finish its spin cycle, leaving to me to hang up clothes that were all but still dripping. It’s as if it knew there was a replacement waiting in the wings.
As an added bonus, the new machine left behind an enormous cardboard box, which I suspect will be verrry popular with both the Kinderbesten and the Kittenbesten. Because, yes, I can’t just call them ‘cats’ … apparently …
I take my father-in-law back home, and then return for an egg and bacon sandwich and more coffee. I also make a vat of meat sauce so I can stock up the freezer with a few meals. I have to head out for the evening, which I have been equally looking forward to and dreading. Looking forward to because it’s going to an awesome night out with many of my favourite people; dreading because it means going out out – not just out to someone’s house, but out to the … outness. Also known as Subiaco.
I’ve offered to be the designated driver for the evening, which is partly insane because one of the things that is most stressing me out is wondering how on earth we’re going to park in Subiaco on a Saturday night. I guess it’s one of those facing your fears moments. In the end we not only park quickly and easily, but virtually on the doorstop of where we’re going. It turns out that Subiaco is about as lively as my spare room on a Saturday night, and there was very little to get stressed about.
We tuck into some Mexican food and then get into the point of the evening. My friends who run the AAA Project, and whose seminar I attended a week or two back, have organised a repeat showing of the Wesley Goodlet Jamboree Scouts One-Hit Wonders Show as a fundraiser. I’m hugely excited about being able to see this show a second time while *also* being able to contribute to their charity! It’s a great night: the music is awesome, they exceed their fundraising goal, and deliver a couple of genuinely touching and inspiring addresses to the crowd.
However, it is also a long night. It’s hovering around midnight by the time I’ve dropped my friends off and am able to make my own way home. I’m hugely tired: I’m C Thomas Howell at the beginning of The Hitcher tired. I keep a close eye out for any sign of Rutger Hauer.
I make it home safely, grateful that I had the foresight to leave some lights on before I left. I quickly feed the cats and retreat to my bed which, tonight, is the best bed in the whole fucking universe.