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A good weekend. Nothing special. Nothing exciting. Just good.
My weekend driver doesn't pick up the cab until Saturday afternoon, so I could extend my Friday night shift until dawn if I wanted. Make pots of money.
But I don't want. The money would be nice, and it's usually cash money, rather than cards or vouchers, with the chance of generous tips. Businessfolk and public servants rarely give tips, but make a drunk happy and he'll cheerfully empty out his wallet for you.
I was operating on the ragged edge of exhaustion, having nursed the tail of a cold over the past week, running my sleep quality way down, and generally feeling grunky. Twice that night I'd pulled over for a nap, and I didn't relish the thought of dealing with drunks when I wasn't feeling 100%.
I finished on the stroke of three, gassing up the cab, vacuuming it out and tidying it up for the weekend driver.
I slept in in the morning. I needed it. Usually I go shopping with Kerri, and we have a cup of coffee at the markets, watching the people go buy, sharing some small sweet pastry in the morning sun. Not today. I wasn't planning on leaving my bed until they screened the Olympics opening ceremony and I'd have to get up to watch it.
Kerri eventually whipped me up around lunchtime. I made some stovetop espresso for us both, and then we went out together. First for a couple of things at the hardware shop - a small LED light to illuminate the interior of a arty coloured glass vase, and a new shower head. "I just wanted a light shower," I said to the checkout girl, and she smiled at me.
Then we hit the fruit and vege markt. I detoured to the specialty grog shop, where I bought four bottles of Jersey pear cider. For the heeling effect on sore feet. Medicinal purposes only, I swear. And it works.
Then another nap. After which we tidied the house and about six-thirty there was a call from the in-laws coming in for dinner. They'd run over some unexpected obstacle on the road, blown two tyres, and would be delaid a while. I jumped in my car, headed out to help. BIL was driving back slowly, having changed one tyre, and I followed in case they needed me. He nursed the car home, hazard lights flashing all the way, and after a bit of bad language over the damage, got into one of the kids' cars, following me back. I had his father, visiting from Victoria, beside me, and we had a lovely chat on the drive home.
Dinner was perfect. Kerri has been inspired by Masterchef on TV, and has reached realms of culinary achievement that are beyond my meat-and-three-vege abilities. We had pear cider, a bottle of New Zealand white I'd brought home duty free in April, and a bottle of champagne. We needed it to wash down the hard centre chocolates BIL brought with him, which were delicious but very chewy, rating a 9 on the ten-point Mmggmm scale.
Sunday, there was a lot more sleeping going on, but after lunch, Kerri and I gave each other massages, pulling a fan heater into the bedroom and cracking the bottle of massage oil we bought after doing our massage course way back in March. What with travel and breaking bones and stuff, there's been limited opportunity, but we brushed away the cobwebs. Need to brush up on technique, but it's fun giving and receiving, even if it ain't technically perfect!
Dinner was leftover lamb from Saturday night, but cooked up nicely. Kerri and I shared a bottle of pear cider and life was good as we watched the "Dancing with the Stars" show.
My weekend driver doesn't pick up the cab until Saturday afternoon, so I could extend my Friday night shift until dawn if I wanted. Make pots of money.
But I don't want. The money would be nice, and it's usually cash money, rather than cards or vouchers, with the chance of generous tips. Businessfolk and public servants rarely give tips, but make a drunk happy and he'll cheerfully empty out his wallet for you.
I was operating on the ragged edge of exhaustion, having nursed the tail of a cold over the past week, running my sleep quality way down, and generally feeling grunky. Twice that night I'd pulled over for a nap, and I didn't relish the thought of dealing with drunks when I wasn't feeling 100%.
I finished on the stroke of three, gassing up the cab, vacuuming it out and tidying it up for the weekend driver.
I slept in in the morning. I needed it. Usually I go shopping with Kerri, and we have a cup of coffee at the markets, watching the people go buy, sharing some small sweet pastry in the morning sun. Not today. I wasn't planning on leaving my bed until they screened the Olympics opening ceremony and I'd have to get up to watch it.
Kerri eventually whipped me up around lunchtime. I made some stovetop espresso for us both, and then we went out together. First for a couple of things at the hardware shop - a small LED light to illuminate the interior of a arty coloured glass vase, and a new shower head. "I just wanted a light shower," I said to the checkout girl, and she smiled at me.
Then we hit the fruit and vege markt. I detoured to the specialty grog shop, where I bought four bottles of Jersey pear cider. For the heeling effect on sore feet. Medicinal purposes only, I swear. And it works.
Then another nap. After which we tidied the house and about six-thirty there was a call from the in-laws coming in for dinner. They'd run over some unexpected obstacle on the road, blown two tyres, and would be delaid a while. I jumped in my car, headed out to help. BIL was driving back slowly, having changed one tyre, and I followed in case they needed me. He nursed the car home, hazard lights flashing all the way, and after a bit of bad language over the damage, got into one of the kids' cars, following me back. I had his father, visiting from Victoria, beside me, and we had a lovely chat on the drive home.
Dinner was perfect. Kerri has been inspired by Masterchef on TV, and has reached realms of culinary achievement that are beyond my meat-and-three-vege abilities. We had pear cider, a bottle of New Zealand white I'd brought home duty free in April, and a bottle of champagne. We needed it to wash down the hard centre chocolates BIL brought with him, which were delicious but very chewy, rating a 9 on the ten-point Mmggmm scale.
Sunday, there was a lot more sleeping going on, but after lunch, Kerri and I gave each other massages, pulling a fan heater into the bedroom and cracking the bottle of massage oil we bought after doing our massage course way back in March. What with travel and breaking bones and stuff, there's been limited opportunity, but we brushed away the cobwebs. Need to brush up on technique, but it's fun giving and receiving, even if it ain't technically perfect!
Dinner was leftover lamb from Saturday night, but cooked up nicely. Kerri and I shared a bottle of pear cider and life was good as we watched the "Dancing with the Stars" show.
