And then I plopped my teeth into a glass
As I've mentioned before, after being laid up for a period of time, I am prone to rushing around like a headless chicken as if my freedom might be snatched from me again at any given moment. As I spent last week pretty much as useful as a mint-flavored suppository, by the time I was able to venture out at the weekend, I had 101 things I wanted.. no, needed to do.
After a two hour session of healing on Saturday morning, I felt guilt ridden enough to do the rounds of friends and family that I have neglected lately and drank so much coffee at various locations, that my tongue is still layered with shag pile. Talks of looming holiday get aways with the parents, debates on single vs married vibrator buying ratios with friends and being perfectly insulted and put down by Grandfathers. By the time I got home at what would usually be my afternoon nap time, I wasn't satisfied with giving up on the day that early and proceeded into a four hour frenzy of furniture dismantlement and rearrangement.
So long cheap and tacky computer desk that the wheels snapped off of a year ago, you served me well.
I fully expected to wake up totally shattered on Sunday, but to my delight I bounced out of bed. I took the opportunity to spend some quality time with Dad, just the two of us. We went to a local coffee shop, where he spend 80% of the time reading the paper, not any old paper, but the daily shitmail non the less, yes I'm obviously that interesting. 
After picking up some locally grown veg.... 
So, although there were no disgustingly hideous parties attended, just two days spend on leisure activities akin to a retirement complex program, I had one of the most enjoyable weekends of the year so far, even if I feel frighteningly old admitting that and I hope yours was smashing too.
