Jagermeister... enough said

I have been chastised recently for my lack of blogs.

I do apologise, but it is LOVELY to know how popular I am. Seriaas!

Sooo… I guess this is where I go into my excuses?

 I have been working my butt off the last month, sacrificing public holidays and lying in on Saturday mornings, trying to let one of my houses. Needless to say, a lot of it was wasting time. Take election day. I went to make my mark early, and thus sat at the property from 14:00 until 17:00, for 4 prospective tenants who were interested in viewing it. One had the audacity to tell me over the phone that I should sit in the morning, as he wanted to go have lunch in Franschoek that day! I politely told him, no. And then, of the four tenants who desperately wanted to view it, ONE pitches up, at 16:45. I have still not closed the deal on this fricking house.  And, despite working my butt off, I am earning less than my basic outgoings this month – JOY!

Other than that, the honeymoon is NOT quite over *gush* and I have enjoyed spending time with the not-so-ex. So much so, that I don’t stop talking about him. I landed myself in trouble with this on Saturday night. The male half of The Coolest Flatmates Ever had a birthday party. It was supposed to be an early night. Tequila Tart and the female half of The Coolest Flatmates Ever decided I had to forfeit every time I mention the-not-so-ex’s name, and stoopidly, I accepted the challenge.

And had five Jagermeisters in the space of an hour. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad idea!

The not-so-ex rocked up (he was my lift home, thank the gods) and literally 30 minutes later I was whispering in his ear “I have to go lie down for a bit”.  “Lying down for a bit” turned out to be 5 minutes, before I had to dash to the bathroom. I was then kicked out of the bathroom by Dearest Friend, and whispered a new line in the-not-so-ex’s ear. “I don’t feel well”. Like the chivalrous gentleman that he is, he pronounced to a few partakers that he is taking me home. For some reason, that still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. The only part of the trip home I remember, is sitting in the corner of the lift leaving their flat.

Once home, I spent some quality time getting re-acquainted with the toilet (we hadn’t seen each other in a while).

Waking up Sunday morning was NOT fun. The worst headache in remembrance and still feeling decidedly ill. And the plan for the day was lunch with the-not-so-ex’s family.  Luckily, by the time lunch came around, I was feeling so much better that I actually had two glasses of red wine. Again… Some of us never learn.  Sunday night was a very early night – in bed around 8 and slept like a log.

And then, last night, I could have drank all night, I reached tipsy, and didn’t waiver from that path, and I’m pretty sure Dearest Friend and I sat up until after 12, having a lengthy discussion on religion, and I’m not tired AT ALL today. Now, why can’t THAT be my default? Being the wino that I am?

Suppose I’m getting old. Meh, that's ok, too. I'll leave the late nights to The Monster and Tequila Tart...