In the aftermath of the sugar high to end all sugar highs, I have no photos. Not yet anyway - because I'm too dammed exhausted. The party was good, if somewhat nerve wracking for all the reasons that parties are. You would think party stress would be less so for a child's party than your own, but no. At least, not for me.
Maybe I'll write about the party tomorrow. After I've rested some more. And downloaded the photos. If I can get out of bed. I almost didn't get up this morning, my muscles would barely lift themselves from the sheets and I lay there weighing up whether to stay home sick and cope with visitors, renovations, more party clean up and general domesticity or go to work and talk as little as possible. Work won as the less onerous option and my body reluctantly arose. After breakfast, I selected a boring but comfortable outfit that I'd had the foresight to iron the day before the party and dragged myself onto the bus. At work my nose started dripping, I sneezed alot and the posters on the wall moved in disconcerting ways.Then I had the brilliant idea, maybe I could have a flex day tomorrow - and leadership at work thought it a brilliant idea, I have too many flex credits, Tuesday is the day they need me the least and it's better for their stats if I don't have a sickie. So then I thought, if I can just soldier through to the end of the day, I can have the special orange scented white and dark chocolate cinnamon cheesecake I saved from the party and secreted in the fridge for dessert in front of the telly with Gerard and then sleep in tomorrow. Two things to look forward to.
The day wore on. It wasn't that busy, but there were some pretty crazy conversations. Like the one where someone was complaining about the pay rate (yes I agree it's hard to live on that little money) and pumping me for ideas on how to campaign for a pay increase (yes, I agree it's tough but nothing I can do to help you with that right now) as the late afternoon queue backed up behind. Oh, and the guy complaining about no-one noticing the queue and me being there all by myself right as people from all over the office were coming out the front and taking people from the queue back to their desks. In my day, we expected to queue. Hell, sometimes I queue longer at the post office. He left after I suggested that there had been no wait at all this morning. Oh, and then there was a lovely lady who was a bit miffed at me when I suggested she sit at the next desk to fill out her form while I served someone else and said nice clothes. It was all I could do to smother my sarcasm and not reply, and what would you wear to work, sweetie? So yeah, there were several points in the day when the thought of the cheesecake and another day off were what moved me forward.
Then it took me longer to leave work than it should have. So as a consequence I missed the tram. Missed the train and missed the bus. Got home just as Grace was finishing her dinner in front of the telly and G was making us brown rice and tofu (actually a good choice for dinner - nothing like too much fairy bread to bring on a brown rice craving). Then G told me there was no more cheesecake left. Sniff. Like a good host, he offered a piece to our guest, who liked it so much that she ate it all up. There had been enough leftover for me, G and Grace to have a nice sized helping each. I didn't get a chance to savour it properly on the day, so I'd planned it this way you see. Anyway it was very rich, so it is no surprise that eating two and a half serves might have given her a tummy ache. Sniff. Never mind. I still have my day tomorrow and I can always make another cheesecake. Sniff. So we had some leftover birthday cake instead. Hence the title. Because that's what it kind of looks like. A crazy pink buttercream armadillo carcass covered in jewelled sweets. Now with pieces hacked out. Yum.