Thinking of something to say is more difficult than it sounds because I’m exhausted and I’ve been writing all day and into the night and I don’t think I’ve got any words left to share with you. Don’t feel sorry for me though, because in about five minutes I’ll be crawling into bed. Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, the mister is having a nap in the back of the car. He has been jackhammering tiles all day so is more exhausted than I am, but teenagers needed to be taxied to places and in the end he decided he would just hop into the backseat and sleep rather than drive all the way back here only to drive all the way back there again. This is the price you pay when you move to a city without paying proper attention to where you live in relation to where your children go to school and thus where their friends will be located during their sociable teenage years. And of course they should get themselves there only the public transport between here and there is lacking to the point of non-existence and the party doesn’t end until one and a P plater’s curfew is 12. We could say you have to be home before your P plate curfew but I was a teenager once and I do get that if the party finishes at one, you want to be there until one. So, the back seat of the car it is for the mister (insert ‘joke’ about that’s where he was when he was a teenager too and something something irony, funny ‘joke’).
The other advantage I have over the mister besides access to a bed is a cup of tea. The mister only made his decision after he had left home so he hasn’t even got a thermos.
I think we can all agree the world would not be worse off if I’d simply gone to bed without filling this space with noise.