"The pattern"

The house of the triple D’s is much like a family: large, intimidating and noisy. Even the extra’s are like distant relatives with all their weird quirks and knowledgeable advice on everything. We definitely take turns on being the parents. Often the parent of the day organises a family day trip. I’ve identified a pattern: we begin the outing by doing something we deem ‘productive’ then we get distracted and will most likely end up somewhere with a bottle of wine to discuss our day’s accomplishments.

Last Saturday was not our normal hangover ritual of mopping up left over stomach curdling booze with a delicious and cheap cafe Sophia breakfast. Instead the day began at the hope street market. Apparently we were there to see the clothes and jewellery stalls (the “productive” part). The double date gang arrived with couch dweller Cait and met up with a few great friends and ultimately ended up trying the samples of all the food at least twice before settling on something to eat (the “distraction” part).

This was a different kind of trip because we seemed to have messed with the pattern by leaving out the breakfast. Somehow this meant that we wouldn’t find wine, nor would it find us, instead we would find another “productive” activity to ultimately continue with setting the day off its destined wine course.

We went to the company gardens where in true grown up style we played on the art work, fed carnivorous ducks and eventually resolved to go eat again somewhere else.

No “distraction” part still.

Even worse: no wine.

I would not allow this strange change in the pattern to defeat me! Some good was going to come out of this day! Some wine SHALL be drunk (by me) at some stage!

We were heading that night to a party I would never ever forget. It wasn’t unforgettable for the right reasons. Rather it was a night that could easily have been a nightmare—that one horror dream situation where you buck up the courage to fully commit to dressing up to a theme and NO ONE else does...

My Robyn, the couch dweller and myself all dressed up to the nines in the playboy bunny themed attire only to arrive at the party as the minority. Thankfully we were in such a scarce group that people thought we worked there and demanded photo’s. We should have charged, then the party would have been worth it.

Instead of following the simple pattern for pre-destined happiness, we went off the course and in my eyes nothing was achieved!

Next time, I will bring my own wine, that way I WIN! (And oh boy, do I like winning)