Had me a few nights off this week – which is why I’m filing this blog a little, er, late and bleary and shabby around the edges. Packed the kids down to the coast for a couple of sleepovers and took a fast shuttle off Planet Parenthood for the duration. Checked out a couple of restaurants I'd been meaning to get to, Esquire and Ortiga.
They were fascinating, each in their own way, but it was the drinking more than the eating which impressed itself upon me.
Especially last night, at Ortiga. They had an awesome wine list and a champion sommelier who knew how work it. But damn, the eating was the awesome too.
Thing is, though, I'm supposed to be off the grog three nights a week. It's not doctor's orders. It just seems a smart thing to do, to give the liver a chance to dry out. So Monday to Thursday I try to stay dry.
I usually fail on Thursdays, and this week I blew it from the get go.
Got me to wondering, though, whether anyone else has an official start to the drinking week? Mostly I keep to mine, but I’ve been pulling a stand-in shift over at the ABC this month*. It’s not real work, not like going into a factory or selling shoes for seven or eight hours a day. But it’s closest thing to a real job I’ve had in twenty-odd years. A real job being a gig you have to turn up to do every day, without fail, at the same time and place. Frankly, I don’t know how you poor bastards do it, week after week, year after year. Especially if you’re juggling kids as well.
I’ve always enjoyed a bit of a whinge about school holidays cramping my Playboy style working life, but having had the merest taste of what you have to deal with all the time, I’m thinking of prescribing myself a double strong course of shut the hell up.
This actual working parenthood gig is hard.
And it brings me back to the official start of the drinking week. I know there’s a few of you out there who try and keep it dialled down at least some of the time. But how is it, given the pressures you’re working under, that wine time or beer o’clock doesn’t come to eat up your whole week?
*It’s also why I’ve had to hold back on the rants the last few weeks. Mark Scott inserted a neural chip in my brain stem that fills my head with a blizzard of pain if I even think about letting my opinions run free on the wireless, or here while I’m taking his coin.
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