The One Up Of A One-Day Weekend.

There's something to be said for working on a Saturday.  Sure, the fact that you actually have to work sucks a little bit of ass.  (And by 'a little bit of', I mean 'huge'.).  And, of course, one is obliged to take their Friday night easy - unless you're The Pant.  Because if you are The Pant then you go balls to the walls with your mother (mentality: have company, must get hammered).

And yes, I did wake up for work an hour late this morning.  The sun poured through my windows and I had a brief feeling that it was Sunday.  I felt ever so rested.  Restored.  But then realised it was Monday morning and screamed "fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu*k!"  Then I tripped over the cat and slammed face first into the bathroom door.  Black eye: glamourous.

Of course, when I saw myself in the mirror prior to my ever-so-rushed shower, I noticed not only a black eye, but exceptional sunburn.  My nose is so red that I've had to use approximately a litre of base to cover it up.  Fortunately, though, I have no sunglasses tan - I lost those bad boys yesterday.  (And I loved them.  And true love lasts a life time.)

I'm currently wearing these:

Also, I had to turn down tickets to the rugby on Saturday owing to extreme exhaustion as a result of tying the dogs loose with The Mother and having worked a full day.  I spent my Saturday evening on the couch, watching a mammoth omnibus of Come Dine With Me.   I was so exhausted that I couldn't bare to face my stove and ordered in pizza.  Single.  And a coke.  At a whopping R130.  I feel like I've been raped.

Actually, working on Saturday holds very little joy. But there is one up (note: singular).  And this little thing has made me smile such that I have severe cheek cramp and what looks like the beginnings of fresh wrinkles.  When you've only got one weekend day, you better make it good. And so, yesterday, The Daughter and I spent our glorious Sunday at uShaka.  And what an effing jol we had.

We laughed so much that my six-pack is back in fine form.  We went down more supertubes than you could shake a stick at.  We had hideously over-priced hot dogs with cheap tomato sauce and even more hideously over-priced ice-creams (all over our face kiff).  And she made me the proudest mama cat in the whole world.

I love her.  She's so brave.  She did that biggish slide thing all on her own.  I'm so chuffed.

Get a daughter.  They'll rock your world to its core.  Even when nobody else does.

PS (Totally germaine) I'm wearing a bra today and my boobs look so big (it's all relative) that I think I may have a crush on myself.