Living so close to work has been an absolute dream, especially when this week has been so wet, with torrential rain flooding everything non stop for the past few days.
With Zac coming to visit this weekend, I’d booked in some girly time with Belinda to get our nails done again and I was hoping I would have the self control to not pick at my flaky nails between now and getting them done again.
I was also planning on treating myself to getting my eyebrows ‘done’, partly so I looked flawless for Zac, but also partly because I’m essentially in sales again and I want to make sure I look like I mean business.
I’m starting with the awesome because my new job has given me a new lease of life.
Or rather, my old lease of life back again.
Yes, the financial situation is still not as healthy as I’d like it to be, but I’m at least on the way to making that change and it does feel like I have my shit together.
I used to love getting my nails done on the reg, it’s my guilty pleasure and I think it’s always worth the money – nothing says girl boss like a good manicure. Best of all, I’m just getting gels done at the moment because being out of the pool means my nails are getting back to being super strong, so I don’t need to trash them with acrylics.
It’s also nice to be able to have some girly time and feel like I am making the kinds of friends that will stick around after I’m gone.
Belinda makes laugh and there’s never those awkward silences – like most of my female friends, she’s the type of chick that doesn’t play nice with other chicks, I’m starting to think that that’s more the norm, either that or I’m just good at sniffing out my own kind.
We’d ran in through the torrential rain, paid for our mani’s and spent the best part of an hour agonising over what colours to get.
They’d started to take our old mani off and prep for the new one, when the power went out. I’m talking full black out.
We all giggled for a few minutes before realising the back up generator didn’t seem to be coming on.
That meant no power, which meant no nails.
“Sorry, miss, no power, no gel, just regular now. Maybe you can wait and we can do gel?”
Thing one, I’d paid for gels, thing two, it had taken too long to choose the fricking colour, thing three, we had time to kill, so we got the torches out on our phones and the ladies carried on in the half light like the troopers they were.
Thankfully power was eventually restored and they whizzed through the rest of our mani’s for us, before we set off in search of brow threading and tinting.
It came out a little darker than I’d anticipated, but Belinda was fully supportive of Helga and Olga (as we affectionately named them) so naturally, we headed out to their local to show them off and kill some more time before Zac arrived.
Aside from the shuttle bus leaving with Mama G, but without us, and the woman on the phone unhelpfully saying: “Your Mum? Did she not want to wait for you?”, it was perhaps inevitable that the first weekend together in months Zac would be the star of the awkward show.
You know when there’s those little, almost insignificant moments with your partner that just make your heart burst? Those moments where you’re both laughing uncontrollably and you know no one else will find it funny, but you’re going to tell them anyway?
This is one of those moments.
Zac has been lamenting the lack of a bum gun since we got back from Asia.
Skeptical at first, he fell in love with the nifty bathroom bastions and has insisted when we have our own place we have one installed.
I don’t know the details, I just know I have to buy less toilet paper when there is a bum gun present, so I’m more than happy to go along with it.
In lieu of being able to insert a bum gun for him, I found some of those flushable wet wipes (for kids) and as a joke, bought him a packet to use while he was visiting.
I’d told him about the wipes and said they were in the bathroom next to the toilet for him to use if he wanted to.
He goes to the loo and I can hear him muttering to himself.
Eventually he calls outs to me: “Where are the wipes babe? Oh wait! I’ve found them, oooh, that’s interesting, lemon flavour! You are spoiling me, my bum’s going to smell like lemons – how fresh!”
I was only half paying attention and I thought it odd that they would be perfumed given they were designed for a sensitive area, but having not opened the packet myself, I just went along with it.
A few hours later I go to the toilet and see that the packet of wipes I’d bought him is unopened.
Trying to work out what the hell he’d been doing, I couldn’t control my laughter as I realised what had happened.
“Hey Zaccy, how’s your bum feeling?”
“Does it feel sanitised? Does it feel like it had 99.9% of it’s germs killed? I know they say multi-purpose, but I don’t think that’s what they meant!”
I waved two packets at him, one clearly for industrial use by comparison and he began to crack up as he realised what he’d done. Through my giggles I managed to stutter out: “You used my cleaning wipes on your bum!”