Of all the days in a week, Sunday is probably my favourite.
In some cultures Sunday is observed as the first day of the working week. Others see Sunday as a day of worship. For most Kiwis, it's a day of rest. It's the day where we catch up, when we discuss Saturday night over mid-afternoon brunch, when we recover from hangovers and the stress of the week. It is a day of possibilities. Maybe I'll clean my room, or organise my wall planner. Maybe I'll call my Mum, or go for a walk by the sea. Most likely I'll sleep in till midday, start a blogpost but never finish it let alone publish it, then spend the last few hours of the week sitting in the afternoon sun drinking tea with my flatmate, recalling the events of the previous night. Maybe we'll make soup later, who knows.
I sprained my ankle (again) on Friday. So after being told by a doctor to take the night off work and chill for a few days, I spent Saturday watching my flatmate and her friends getting quite intoxicated and leaving to celebrate 7s weekend, while I remained chair-ridden in the lounge with a large mug of chai tea. I decided around 1am it was time for bed, only to be woken up around 5am when my girls came home safe and sound. Usually I would have been out with them (and every other Wellingtonian by the sound of it), hopping from club to club snapping photos as I do every Saturday night. Instead I spent the late hours burning incense and listening to Matt Corby. That was my weekend, a rather unremarkable yet suitably nice time. Apart from having Saturday to myself for the first time in months, it's safe to say this is how I've spent most of my weekends lately. Sipping chai, braless and contemplating life; listening to Billie in the afternoon sun.
Although it feels like we're still in the throws of Summer here, I can feel the warmth and freedom of the season already fading. Kiwis are mad for the sun. In the holidays, we students party all night and sleep all day. Sometimes we go to work, mainly we drink beer and bake in the heat. It's a time of potential; literally anything could happen. However, already I can feel the excitement, the contentment that comes from being completely free and the sexual energy that runs rampant through the humid nights, disappearing as quickly as Winter approaches. Uni is coming, and as my final year looms, and my already waning campus bubble threatens to burst under the pressure, it seems it's finally time to put our clothes back on and get back to life as we used to know it, before the simmering heat went to our heads. Until then, I'm happy in the knowledge that I've had one helluva summer.
I just realised it's 6 o'clock, I think I'll have soup for dinner.
Sounds like a good night! I've never been to the Sevens, but we've all heard how epic it is. (Although honestly the cup of chai appeals more - I'm getting old haha).
This sounds like such a nice relaxing night. My sundays are always so busy - errands, blogging, trying to see a friend, and then collapsing into bed before starting work again in the morning. However today is a holiday in Auckland so I had a more chill day, yaaaay.