Labour Weekend

It is Labour Weekend! Apparently this is to celebrate the introduction of a 40-hour working week or something but I have no idea why anyone would ever want to celebrate that so instead I am pretending it is about a) a leftish political party or b) childbirth. (Apparently nothing worth celebrating is synonymous with 'Labour.')

Woke up this morning in high spirits - it may have been the impending long weekend or it may have been the dream about being an uncontrollable brass-banding pistol-packing vigilante freedom fighter with a double-penised lizard man sidekick. Who knows? Anyway, my sense of bonhomie was in no way spoiled by accidentally startling the elderly next-door-neighbours with the appearance of my towel-clad self, roaring ABC Cafe/ Red and Black from Les Mis at the top of my lungs. How was I to know they'd be sitting out in the sun having a nice cup of tea when I wanted to get my pants off the washing line? At least I was wearing a towel. Even if it was on my head.

After I'd regained my pants and dignity I got dressed and went to the supermarket for coffee. In honour of the long weekend, I wore trackpants, a tee shirt and no makeup. Also my hair was wet - there is nothing shameful about rising at lunchtime, it is a long weekend! This would've been much more of a statement if everyone else at the supermarket hadn't been doing exactly the same thing. Supermarket - I know you want to hear about this - was dull except that I saw a huge SUV with the wheel cover, "My other car is a boat." I know, I know, the point is that he likes fishing. But technically it should read, "My other vehicle is a boat." Or maybe "My other car is not a car! It is a boat." Or perhaps just, "I have more money than you! Also, a boat."

Anyway I got stuff to do! Phonecards to buy, gigs to go to, naturist open days to prepare for. For those in NZ, enjoy your Monday off. For those not in NZ, ha ha.