When I was a young teen in Ti Tree, I never really understood why everyone went to the pub on a Wednesday. I mean, really, it’s the middle of the week. Since being at uni, I have discovered that that is exactly the point!
It’s been one of those weeks. Well, really, it’s been a series of ‘those weeks’ for the last several months. Ah, the joys of the honours. Everything that can go wrong, will of course go wrong, with no explanation for why it went wrong, other than it did. I have a theory that the various parts of my project are conspiring to send me to the loony bin. That, or I’ve cured cancer and just don’t know exactly how. Or perhaps it is a super strain of cancer that I could sell to some military institution as the next big biological weapon… Nah.
Anyway, I digress. I got to 4pm this afternoon, and had the sudden overwhelming urge to walk out, and go down the Ponds for a few drinks with my mates. I was taking photos of the super cancer cells at the time, and I have the feeling the scent of 70% ethanol spray may have had an influence on this compulsion. I considered this urge, and realised that it must be because it is ‘Hump Day’. Yes, its been uphill all week to this point, and the after downing a few wine sunrises (cause $2.80 beats $6 spirits), and watching Mentor win on the dogs, the rest of the week can surely only be a smooth, leisurely, coast to the finish.
Of course, everything is going to be better after tomorrow, for the pure and simple fact that my neck will be straight again (Yes, I shall no longer by kinky!), and I’m heading out with some of my favourite peoples (yes Gilly’s, it’s going to be a good night!). Things like that always hep to improve my week. But still, I now see that those Wednesday evenings spent at the pub were necessary, to distress from the half-week past, and to fortify yourself for the half-week coming. I've gotten over the hump, and it should be easy going from here... provided no more bloody cells mutate!