This weekend I have been mostly feeling unwell.
Friday was the office Christmas party. I love the christmas party and I always have a very good time, largely due to the amount of wine consumed.
However, wine does not like me and I don’t like it much either.
Ours is a traditional christmas party in that it is a Turkey dinner with crackers and silly hats, a bit of cabaret and dancing into the small hours and it all comes with copious amounts of free wine. The thing with free wine is that generally it is not the best wine available, usually just the cheapest. I am not complaining though, as we do not have to pay for our christmas party and so that would be very ungrateful, but the thing about free wine is it might as well be petroleum for all the good it does to your insides.
It usually doesn’t taste very nice and you know that if you drink too much of it you are going to be paying a very high price for it a bit further down the line (something akin to losing a vital organ down the toilet), but that, I’m afraid, doesn’t stop us. We drink as much free wine as we can get our grubby little hands on and it was plenty, believe me.
It all started very well, the food was actually very nice. Everyone was in good spirits and having a great time, we were all dancing and laughing and enjoying letting our hair down.
We did our secret santa, another of my most favourite things. I think I may have been an elf in a previous life as nothing makes me feel quite as happy as giving all the presents out from the secret santa. A lot of effort goes into my secret santa. I make labels and handwrite them all, identical, in an effort to keep it secret and I get very upset if someone doesn’t use the proper label. I can’t help it. I am not usually a very anal person but I am incredibly anal about my secret santa. I like it to be perfect.
By the time we are giving out the presents, I have had more than my fair share of the free wine and gleefully set about kissing everyone as I give them their presents, dancing around in my santa hat like a complete lunatic. It is no wonder I do not have man in my life. Most people think I am insane.
This year for my secret santa, I received one of those colour changing umbrellas, nice. You can’t go wrong with an umbrella, every girl needs one and a fancy cocktail apron, I thought I might wear that on my next date… 😉
Talking of dates, I was most surprised to wake up Saturday morning to discover I hadn’t messaged anyone while completely intoxicated and offered to meet them for sex in a dustbin bag the following Thursday? I must have been far too busy throwing all that free wine back up again during the night to be texting! Phew.
As the night wore on, we were dancing outrageously, pretending we were areoplanes and stomping up and down the dance floor like a couple of divas, or so we thought. In reality we looked what we were, drunk forty somethings who should seriously know better but clearly do not. Our singing was largely becoming shouting and we were starting to hug everyone and tell them all how much we loved them, even the ones we had never seen before.
At the end of the night, when we had somehow managed to wrangle a lift home from one of our lovely nurses, (we never to seem to have thought about how we are getting home from these events) and I had left the contents of my bag all over her back seat along with the remnants of some poppadom crisps, that we had somehow decided would be a good idea to eat on the way home, while still swigging from half full bottles of wine we had grabbed off the table on the way out, it was a miracle we made it home before emptying the contents of our stomachs!
I hadn’t actually realised I had left the contents of my bag behind until I got indoors and asked myself why I had taken an empty bag with me?
The next morning on Facebook was a post asking who the red lipstick , a tampon and some hand cream belonged to, Er… that would be me then!
I couldn’t muster even the hint of a smile Saturday morning. I arrived in the bathroom to be sick again at around 6:15 am and slowly becoming more aware of my surroundings could see remnants of last night’s dinner around the plug hole of the sink, lovely. The toilet looked even worse. I was clearly not in focus at all, while hurling my free wine into the fairly large size toilet as it seemed I had completely missed my target.
All day Saturday I was feeling absolutely shite. I couldn’t even take a sip of water without fear of being sick again and could not wait to get back into bed. Elsie who believes that alcohol is the work of the devil was prone to giving me very disapproving looks all afternoon and rolling her eyes at me. #whosetheadultnow
It is now Monday and after a very bloody manic day at work and a large, very fatty, double cheese pizza I am starting to feel a bit more human again. I swear that is my short relationship with wine well and truly over. I’m a vodka girl through and through.
This evening Elsie has a sleep over at a friends and I have one of Tom’s mates here. This is a new thing for us. I don’t know any of Tom’s friends, his secondary ones anyway. This lad seems pleasant enough, I do not know where he lives or who his parents are and they do not know me. He was dropped off in our road at a designated place of mutual agreement between both ‘children’ with no adult input whatsoever. He looks well kept and well nourished and clean, for a boy at least. However, it does worry me that parents don’t really worry about where their child is? Do we all just assume that because the children know each other and like each other that all will be well?
Of course he is perfectly safe here. I know I’m a bit sketchy sometimes but I will look after him. They will have to go to bed at a reasonably sensible time, he will be fed and watered and warm and returned safe and sound to his parents tomorrow lunchtime or at least to the designated drop off point. I don’t think the parents are actually allowed to see each other in person. That would just be embarrassing!
Currently they sound like they might be trying to break the floor boards upstairs. This is filling me with all sorts of joy as I love all this boisterousness. They are so bloody loud. They are just two boys and it sounds like there is twelve of them up there. The conversation is loud enough to be heard across the street but they are NOT shouting, apparently. I on the other hand beg to differ.
It is hard blogging with all this distraction.
Oh and by the way, did I mention that I haven’t heard anymore from M. I don’t think this will come as any great surprise to any of you who are following this story. It certainly didn’t surprise me.
Things move fast in the online dating world though and tonight it has been particularly busy. Most likely because all the woman of the world have far too much to do at this time of year. I usually keep myself online while I am writing (another reason why these things take so long) and have struck up a few new conversations this evening so we will see where this takes us, shall we?
I wonder if any will make in to 2018?