On Thursday evening, Benji was in town from NYC for one night, so it was my obligation to take him out for a few drinks. That finished up around 2am, and of course I had to wake up for work a few hours later. So that was awesome.
Friday night was a "chilled out reunion" with some former colleagues. That ended with break dancing at 1am. (Disclaimer: I have never, nor will ever, attempt breakdancing. Unfortunately I seem to associate with several people who don't share this aversion.)
Saturday morning I had to wake up to drive to the ungodly suburb of Castle Hill, some 45 minutes away from civilization, to visit my cousin's 10-day old baby. And if we're being quite honest, that was pretty generous considering babies don't actually do anything at that age.
It all caught up with me on the Saturday night, as I was supposed to be partying hard for Jules' farewell drinks, but decided to head home by 10pm to spare everyone my increasingly nasty attitude. I might be in my 30's, but when tired I revert to being a toddler.
And somehow, after a solid 9 hours of sleep, I woke up on Sunday morning and thought it would be fun to head to more drinks. I'm not quite sure why.
Needless to say, I am exhausted today, and not at all pleased at the prospect of drinks and dinner tonight, and no quiet nights at home until some point next week. Oh well, I guess it beats being fat and not having any friends.