thirty days of interpretation 
2 Comments a typical Saturday night in my life
I am pretty sure my Saturday night was typical. How typical? Well, my Lotto ticket didn’t win me anything.
After a hard day of work doing outside jobs around the house, because lets face it, it actually stopped raining long enough in Auckland to get out and wash the house & windows, dig out a few plants, argue with the spade, discover spades can bite back and giving the hedge a serious haircut. By 3pm, after this fit of home maintenance, we decided to retire inside and ease our aches with wine.
Whilst my husband chose a Wolf Blass Presidents Selection from the cellar (fancy name for the hall cupboard dontcha think?) I decided to go with the Selaks Winemaker Favourite Methode Traditionnelle. I’m not usually a bubbly drinker, but this bottle suffered some serious evaporation by my hands. The evaporation was not helped by me sitting in the family room, surveying the carnage unleashed on the front garden by me, or the rice crackers and Dip (Spinach & Feta).
It is fair to say, that the evaporation didn’t last long. It was 6pm, and I had drunk the whole bottle. By myself. Sorry diet. And somewhere in the middle of that evaporation, I cooked home made pizzas for dinner.
Sometime around 6.30pm, burn outs were heard in our neighbourhood, so I went for a stroll, and a gossip with the neighbours.
Then I just sat on the couch, with popcorn, and watched some TV shows like The Good Wife, NCIS, Hellcats, Glee and The Simpsons. Mindless stuff. But great to pass away an evening while the hubby yells obscenities at the referee in whichever rugby game happens to be on TV. And tweeting. A lot.
