The first part of Friday mostly consisted of zombie-shuffling it to uni.
Lecture at 9am = have to beat the traffic = leave home at 7am.
Bec and her cousin Sam had gone to a beach the day before and didn't arrive home until some early hour of the morning. So understandably it was a little bit before we were able to get the ball rolling. We left a bit after 7, all tired and scrubbing our eyes. With my roommate and her cousin and their five hours of sleep, this was understandable. I'm just not a morning person.
I remember (and I had this struggle this morning also) looking into the 'tea/coffee storage area', eyeing off the coffee. Wondering if it was worth it.
When I arrived two weeks ago, Dad was kind enough to do the shopping for essential bits. He did bring me back instant coffee. But it was Decaf.
I love you Dad, but it's still Decaf. I'm having caffeine withdrawals and I keep trying to tell myself that the caffeine is a placebo and I really just want the coffee taste.
Decaf is not coffee.
So. I had been eyeing off the coffee. I think I had some. Too bad Bec doesn't drink it too.
We left a little late with the intention of dropping Sam off on the way. She sat in the front of the small Suzuki Swift, giving reactive directions towards the house we were in hot pursuit of. Even though 'hot pursuit' might seem a little overrated, believe me, it wasn't. It wasn't Sam's house, so we wound up motoring as quietly as a 22-year-old sports car would allow us through the streets of suburbia. We found the house, and Bec and I set off for uni.
You would think that having spent so much time out looking for the house, we would now be resigned to double-clutching it up the large hills and doggedly trying to get in the left lane so we wouldn't have to leg it across North Lambton. But we got there.
Bec checked the car clock as we climbed the exit ramp to University Drive, and, surprised, remarked on the time it had taken us to traverse northwest Newcastle. I replied,
"That's because I am secretly a Time Lord, and this (here I gestured to the dark blue Swift) is my TARDIS"
Spot the Doctor Who fan if you dare.
Getting to uni was no trouble. We did manage to get a bit lost on our way to the lecture room - all the while wandering through the thick cloud of mosquitoes that throngs the Uni. They feast on the blood of students, and thrive in the bushland that enshrouds the learning facility.
Bec was swatting them. I was not smart enough to take a bag for my lecture book, so occasionally I managed to smush one or two using the butt of my water bottle. It looked like the club of a battle-worn warrior - lots of bloodstains - by the time we emerged from the woods and entered the housing for the lecture theatre.
Post-lecture and uni we still had a large amount of day to survive. But the first thing we needed to deal with was actually the fuel in the car. It had been empty that morning, and we'd put twenty dollars in. Unfortunately, that wasn't enough to fill the tank, so we meandered off to Mayfair in search of Woolworths Petrol stations and their discounted petrol.
As we were exiting the uni, I had a sudden desire for ice-cream. It wasn't even a slight hankering for, although I suspect it was not as insatiable as the cravings of a pregnant woman. I don't know. I have not been pregnant. But I still wanted ice-cream.
So, we are now driving through Mayfair, a part of Newcastle neither Bec or I had been to, in search of cheap(er) fuel and ice-cream.
Our search yielded a Woolworths with a special deal on my most favoured brand of ice-cream. In small punnets. We were sold, and shortly after we located the plastic spoons in the store Bec and I were sitting in the TARDIS, in the shade, lost in the bliss of 400mL of ice-cream. We had two punnet-things: mint choc-chip and cookies and creeeeeeaaaam. I LOVE cookies and cream.
We perused suitable directions from the checkout lady, and were soon in pursuit of a fuel station on a street that didn't exist. Failing that, we started looking at the maps for fuel-station icons, and with no particular place in mind, we set out.
At the traffic lights of the intersection that would take us back onto a 20-year-old highway, we spotted what was most possibly the best-named noodle bar in Newcastle.
To phrase it as Bec had done - 'It's like the perfect combination of Kung-fu Panda and Spagattah Nadle! It's like, a kung-fu noodle with a speech impediment!" (If Spagattah Nadle makes no sense I suggest going here. It will explain all.)
So far, it was looking like a pretty awesome Friday.
We drove on for a short period of time, and suddenly! There was a fuel station. I bet that by now you're either bored, waiting for it to get really good, pitying the way I get excited over small things or possibly getting excited yourself. I don't know. You tell me, reader.
There was a fuel station, and I remembered which side of the car the fuel was on, so we were pretty much sweet. It was a Woolworths station, and we filled the car and set off, keen for home.
By now we had approached the part of the afternoon where I would start chanting the word 'pool'. The world had heated up sufficiently and I wanted nothing more than to head back to our place in
It was only as we began to climb a hill not far from the refueling that I noticed the fuel gauge. Most cars, when full, will have a gauge that looks like this:
(The little | next to the F is the needle.)
Ours looked like this:
| F E
So we were both pretty excited.
I think there is a photo. I may post it. It was taken while driving, with Bec holding my mobile phone and me making the car go.
As we continued, I began to recognise the occasional landmark, feeling slightly less lost and more like we were headed home. My sense of direction generally sucks, so the way things work with Bec and I is very simple at the moment.
I drive. Bec navigates.
It's worked well so far.
Anyway, she was telling me about an intersection we would pass through very soon that I would definitely recognise, that if I didn't recognise it, there was something wrong with me. As we passed through it I felt unfamiliarity until I saw the RSL club. It took a moment for my brain to rotate its position and suddenly I knew exactly where we were. About two intersections from home, that's where.
We pulled up and barreled inside, only to encounter a most perplexing of choices.
I had been expecting two packages in the mail, and was indescribably excited about th prospect of having not one, but two packages coming within the next week or so.
One of them was on our loungeroom floor.
Russell (the landlord) had placed it there when it arrived, and I was immediately faced with a dilemma.
Box or pool first?
Box won. There was a clamp-light that Mum had bought at Bling from home. It already has a name.
Have a guess what.
Shortly afterward, Bec and I had, with the absolution and deliberation of an avalanche, made it to the pool.
Pools are great. I like them a lot.
You would have to think that this is the end of the day?
This is the bit where if it was an infomercial, I'd have a smaller stunt double jump up from behind the counter-or-whatever-I-am-advertising-from and we'd both yell,
"but wait, there's MORE!"
And you're all like "what? how can that be? can this day possibly get more excellent? how will they do it?"
And if this was an episode of bleach, that would be the bit where the motion would freeze at a dramatic point and the words 'to be continued' would spider across the screen and make you want to headbutt the universe because the episode can't end there - you have to find out what happens next! Fifty episodes later!
I am getting overexcited.
Anyway. We had an early dinner, made greater by the fact that I had made a lot the night before and nobody else had been home to eat it. We simply heated it up and then proceeded to sit on the loungeroom floor, munching on rice and chicken meatball while watching Bleach.
Bec hasn't encountered Bleach before. And I'm actually quite enjoying watching the first season again.
We crashed relatively early.
But it was still, without a shadow of a doubt, the most awesome friday. ever.