What does a single girl do after a long and tiring day of hard work in the office? If not getting plastered in a pub, if not having a pseudo romatic date (only because of the candles), if not toning up her thighs in a gym, a single working girl collapses on a sofa, with a glass (bottle) of white wine and a fag. Bliss. Just letting the alcohol soothe the jumpy nerves, and smoke do the rest of the job, whatever it is (even if it's only cutting short by a few minutes the life of stress and chronic fatigue ).
Well, that is not the life of a single, working girl in the big city.
Apparently chardoney and fags are a mum's good friends.Revelation to me. I have to say. Since having babies I have found myself living the life of an Amish, well except for the very few special occasions when old and single friends come by with plenty of enthusism and wine bottles to drink their broken hearts better till small hours.
So back to mums and chardonney. A bottle at the end of a hard day filled with kids and housework seems to be the standard among mums, the stay at home type in particuler. Kids in beds, white whine out of the fridge. Kind of a treat to a woman whose biggest entertainment of the day is ...cannot really think of any, so will just leave the dots.
I tried that 'wine by the end of the day treat' yesterday. Bought the chardoneney at Tesco. Put it in a freezer. Could not wait for the moment of uncorking the bottle, opening the long started never finished book, putting my feet up...So - to fast forward my getting to the moment of bliss- I skipped the time consuming tasks of tooth brushing, nail clipping, ear cleaning, and bathing. Rushed the kiddies quickly into beds. Skipped every second page in a bed time story, well tried to do that, but the kiddies are not so stupid, they hate abridged versions of a story, so had to read the whole lot...got a bit fatigued...gave in to a bit of snooze, still smacking my lips at the thought of a chilled white.
The next morning, I found myself on the edge of the bed. With the book's pages squashed between my shoulder and head.
The first thing I thought of when I woke up was about the state of my pore clogged face, the make up of yesterday working overnight its way into the deepest realms of my skin horrified my enough to jolt me out of bed to have a good wash.
The next thing I thought was the completely unnecessary, annoying and awkward chore of the day: how the hell will I clear the broken bottle of chardonney from the freezer?