The Weekend in Numbers

Number of hours spent at Paul Senyol's exhibition space on Friday night to see Debbie Turner's lovely illuminated manuscipt-type poetry: one?

Number of hours spent at the Medi Clinic ER on Friday night after dashing out of Paul's: three to four. Poor, poor Noodle had a bad reaction to some antinausea medication. First there was the involuntary teeth clamping and lock jaw, then there was the friendly doctor who sorted her right out, then there were the hysterical giggles, rapid-fire talking and memory loss in the middle of long, convoluted sentences, a side effect from the drip counteracting the other side effect. This is why I don't self-medicate. Look what can happen, even when you're in the safe hands of a qualified professional. Was hilarious though, hearing the usually very reserved Noodle babble at about seventy miles an hour about how we should dress up for the Kings of Leon concert (Golden Circle baby! Thanks Boyfriend, you are, hands down, the best). She also told me five or six times how lovely my hair is. Bless.

The rest of the weekend passed by in a lovely blur of productive freelancing, Fat Cactus-enchilada-and-margarita-ing, Lazari brunching and Christmas and birthday present shopping. All in all a good one I'd say.

Seven work days left and counting...