LIVING THE DREAM

I’ve been on holiday for over a week now and I’m beginning to wonder how I ever managed to work. Today was breakfast with Old Man River which is always an early one because old people tend to be early risers. The Queen blames it on his arthritis. Lunch was with The Father and The Gran for her birthday and I’m about to leave to meet The Queen for drinks followed by a dinner with Old Man River. Having sussed out that the guy is a trustafarian, he fits in nicely with my early retirement plan.

While I thought I was the only person in Cape Town living the dream, yesterday was proof that I am not alone. It was one of the Smug Married’s birthdays and a few weeks back she sent an email out saying that it was her birthday on the Monday and she was having a lunch at her favourite seaside restaurant. Brave I thought, since firstly everyone works and if you can make it, by the time you've left the office in town and hit the beach, it’s 4 o clock. Feeling sorry for her and picturing her sitting on her lurkersome, I made the trip. I arrived an hour late to find 13 of my closest friends including The Neighbour, The single Sidekick, The Queen, a couple of the Stepfords and a shit load of the Smug Marrieds boozing themselves silly.

Me: My God. Are we all unemployed?
The Single Sidekick: We’re retired Baglett, there’s a massive difference
Me: The Queen, what the hell are you doing here, you have a business to run
The Queen: I’m practising. And you know I suffer from FOMO
Smug Married: Don’t look at me, there’s a recession on. Who else is going to support these restaurants?

With all the retirement boozy lunches I’ve been attending it’s taking a toll on my petrol account and I have had to make alternative arrangements. AKA my father.

Me: Daaaaaaaaaaaaad, can I borrow your car today?
Dad: Why? What’s the difference between mine and yours?
Me: Yours has petrol
Dad: Baglett, the last time you borrowed my car, you went away for a night and returned it with an empty tank
Me: It’s not my fault Old Man River lives in the land of Far, Far Away. And I may have siphoned some petrol out of your car. Which reminds me, my car doesn’t take Diesel.

While there are things I can get away with in Dad Land, Mom Land is not as forgiving and my Dad knows that if he needs to make a point with me, he needs to do it in front of my mother otherwise it doesn’t count.

Dad: Baglett, please stop taking my car and using all the petrol.
Me: Mom! Dad! You won’t believe it! That wasn’t me!
Mom: What are you talking about Baglett?
Me: Well Dad, your car must have been stolen. I got into it last night and there was a receipt from McDonalds for a double cheeseburger and chips!
Mom: WHAT?!
Me: Mom, don’t be cross with Dad, crime is out of control. There are obviously vigilantes out there on some sort of greasy take away crime spree.
Dad: That is shocking. Love, pass me the yummy salad over there. Baglett, here are my keys.