I am committing sleep hygiene crime here. I’m writing this post on my phone, lying on my side, illuminated only by the auto brightness setting. I should’ve just had the warm milk…
I may as well write this post in reverse chronological order (because that’s how my brain functions at this time.)
It’s 2.50am and I am wide awake.
Woke up from the trifecta of the caffeine finally hitting me, a sore stomach (see last post where I have assumed I am probably dying) (also see post about fears) and a dream I couldn’t shake.
Drove home from the ‘country’ (note: the word country pretty much refers to any small town that takes longer than 25 mins to drive to and includes views of sheep and roadside vegetables.)
Had a couple of strong coffees at the pub.
Now before you give me shit about having coffee at a pub, refer to above – I had to drive home. It’s far. I was tired AF.
So the main purpose of the night was getting to catch up with an awesome friend.
We’ve been mates since our kids were young enough to still be cute. Before the pubes and the paranoia kicked in. Before Facebook came and ruined everything. Before we had two cars per family, and we had to walk everywhere.
We used to drink hot tea and instant coffee, and fantasize about the day we could go out all night, sans kids, and drink wine, and just not.go.home.
There were three of us for years. One of the husbands named us the Non Practicing Lesbian Society (or NPLS for short, which we all figured just looked like text-speak for nipples. And we kinda related.)
So we pretty much just became the nipples. (Like I said, it’s pretty late (now 3.22am). I can’t promise quality writing here guys.)
Anyway, we have been a couple of nipples short of a 6 pack for a while now, as one of the girls flew across the ditch, taking her fabulous kindness (and actual nipples) to Perth. So, in order to keep hope alive, me and Bee try to meet up when we can. Mostly it’s for an hour here or there between work and study. And sometimes they don’t like it when you return to those things a little bit shitfaced… so we have been trying to make a plan to have the kids sorted and spend some quality drinking time together. Plan finally in hand we headed out to her ‘country’ local tonight and stayed for about 4 1/2 hours.
Conversations between close women are golden. They are part of the reason I started this blog. If you blokes could hear half of what we talk about you’d wanna go on holiday for awhile. Far away. Like, where there are no women.
Ok, so I can’t speak for all the women (although I’ll give it a crack… I’m pretty loud) but my close girlfriends know enough about me to really f*ck me over if they wanted to. I like that. Because it’s reciprocal. There’s trust. It’s nice.
Talking and confiding (especially after the alcohol gives you a warm side hug), feels like you don’t have such a weight around your neck. Ok, sometimes it doesn’t make any difference, because let’s face it, you can’t live at the pub and avoid life forever… but man, if you could….
We sat inside, then outside, because you can smoke an e cig outside and sometimes when you are in your mid thirties you just need to sit outside and smoke an e cig at a pub. Kay?
I got I.D-ed buying drinks from the bar. Don’t hate on me when I say I really don’t love getting I.D-ed. It makes me feel like I’m trying to do something I’m not allowed to do. And I am allowed. I was good for years. (#hahaha) I deserve the alcohol. ALL mothers deserve the alcohol.
– Omg it’s like 3.54am now.
Back to the reverse chronological order of the night, we walked into the pub and promptly confirmed the ratio of construction workers and old dudes drinking jugs of beer, to women, was pretty skewed.
I was glad to have an ally. But we can hold our own. Handle of beer in hand and determination to lay it all out on the (picnic) table, was strong. These times between friends are precious. Beer is precious.
Now it’s 4:07am and the memory is hazy, but at least I’ve found something to do in the middle of the night while Facebook is sleeping.
Mostly I just wanted to remind myself that it’s good to talk shit with good peeps. Snapchat is fine, but 15seconds is not enough. It’s healthy to be honest with each other and get a little bit ugly about where you are really at. It’s fine to quote the old “it takes a village to raise a child” but sometimes the village women need to get together and help the poor bitch that can’t remember how to put her socks on today.
Two girls walk into a pub.