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So it’s Saturday.

And we’re creeping maniacally (more on that in a moment) towards Saturday night.

Once upon a time that would mean something like this:

I’d apply make-up.  I owned bar shirts.  The ones that require special bras.  I danced.  On the dance floor; near the dance floor; on risers; sometimes on the dividers between dance floor and non-dance floor.

It would generally end with 3am Elgin Street Diner poutine.  Which was waist-line manageable after what was effectively  four-hours of non-stop aerobic activity.

It was never flaming bars and Coyote Ugly.  I mean, I never got to sing karaoke with LeAnn Rimes or anything.  But dancing ’til the wee hours was equally not an uncommon Saturday night.

Now?  Let’s see, today (a normal Saturday) saw me up at about 8:30.  After making sure the kids were settled doing something, I started a leisurely weekly cleaning of the house.  I usually go the gym Saturday mornings after about an hour of this – taking the kids with me –  but the state of sloth we were currently living in kinda got to me, so I binge cleaned for four hours.

Unless you live here, you’d never know.

I then took the girls grocery shopping with me.  My level of “not keeping it completely together” measured by the nice elderly couple who helped me get the kids in the car as I was trying to leave and took my cart back for me.  God Bless.

Then got home, cooked lunch and got them down for a nap about a half hour ago.

I was then aiming to use my “afternoon down time” to …


I know.

You really can’t fight the moonlight.

My Saturdays are one non-stop party.

Given I’m kinda beat after my morning/afternoon to date, instead of tax-filing fun, I thought I’d take a wee bit of downtime instead to blog a bit (tada!) and then …

… wait for it…


Why bother with that second bit by this stage, you ask?

Well, because we’re off to a surprise party tonight.

Here’s hoping for a second wind once I get there.

Because at the moment, my ideal Saturday night would be:

Yes: Buffy again sums it up nicely for me.  My ideal Saturday night would be just that: Lovely, quiet, alone.  Nobody with a list of things they need from me.  Nobody whining out their needs and demanding my time.  I’m at a stage of life where that happens far too rarely.

Don’t get me wrong.  I like a good party.  I love my family.  I love my friends.  I’m sure I’ll have fun once I get there and wind down a bit.

But right now?  Honestly? My favourite way to spend Saturday night: A Chair, A Fireplace, and a Tea Cozy.

Maybe next weekend.