On Friday night I stayed in the city and nibbled free mini-pizza slices under those wonderful gas-heaters outside the Mitre Tavern with a few guys from work, and proceeded to drink away the problems of the week. You would think from reading this that I am a disenchanted and overly stressed employee but the reverse is the case. My work CD player had been churning out marvellous Clementi Sonatinas all week, and I was feeling fine. Sometimes it’s just wonderful to let yourself go, and forget about the dogs and how hungry they must be getting at home in the dark. Apparently once Kim had joined in at 8:30 after her trashy movie experience, we caught a taxi home – I don’t recall this part. I also don’t recall repeatedly babbling the route to the driver either (insert *shameful feeling*). I am particularly impressed that my partner didn’t use this evidence as a tool to get me to do horrid things like go to a Farmer’s market on the weekend, but waited instead until I sought clarification this morning before gleefully letting loose. Otherwise, we were slothful and lazy. Aside from a frenzied bout of housework, dog walking and Preston Market expedition on Saturday, there was a lot of World of Warcraft played (mainly on her part – and I wonder who has an aching hand today because of it?), book reading done and an average part-bottle of Pinot drunk. I re-racked my Dunkel Wheat beer into a new container so the amount of sediment in future bottles resembles a Coopers instead of a tablespoon of sand – a quick taste gave no indication of the likely end-result, but I have a bad feeling about this one. We made an unenthusiastic list of (mostly) chores and projects to be started in the coming months, and then organised the evening into three two hour alternating sessions of WoW. When I logged on and saw I had spent 1 day and 4 hours of playing time so far, I felt ok, because I knew Kim had clocked at least double that, and I therefore won some sort of moral victory. I think I have things backwards because maybe the real victory is who gets their character to level 60 first. Since she’s on level 31, and I’m on 16, I think I know how that will pan out. Michael Dart warned me about this. 
There is a psychotic looking Collingwood fan to the rear that in hindsite I should have been more wary of. On Sunday I met a couple of American and Russian work visitors and took them to the most miserable game of football I can remember. If not for the 4 buck garbage bags, we would have been drenched, but MY TEAM KICKED COLLINGWOOD’S ARSE and it felt wonderful. We topped the night off with more Pinot, Piano and WoW. And a roast chicken, lovingly prepared. I was ill the next morning, but that’s another story.