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There are only two lists. The List of Tina’s Life Rules (in no particular order) and The List of What Not to Do. But sometimes they combine. And sometimes the rules swap from one list to the other.
The List of What Not To Do is very extensive but can mainly be summarised by BLS (Be Less Shit).
Tina’s Life Rules are even easier to remember. Although don’t ask me where I wrote them down. I do, however, refuse to choose any of my life rules as my favourite. But the main ones?
- Just do nothing
- Lie down on the lounge and the feelings will pass
So I have been a real stickler for the rules lately. Pretty much ever since I got back from Melbourne. I’ve actually consolidated them into one. I have been lying on the lounge, just doing nothing. Confident that the Universe would deliver. What to do now?
The Universe certainly has delivered, on the social front. The Fun Police have been extremely busy.
Then a few weeks ago a great friend and colleague from many years ago texted to say that we had won the tender.
First thought: What tender?
Then I remembered who I am. I am the person who says yes without really listening to what I’m agreeing to. Like cruises. And other fun stuff. And apparently jobs.
So not long after that I’m heading off to a meeting for my new job that I’ve never heard of with people I’ve also never heard of.
The first thing I did was go and investigate the hotels and bars in the nearest town.
I found two on the first night. They would be Ori’s Bar and The Church Bar in Windsor. Not open every day of the week, but still good.
Then I found the Crown Plaza that had a great bar that is open every night, run by excellent women. I knew it was a sign that when I checked in to the hotel, in the time it took me to drop my bag in my room and run back to the bar for Happy Hour, 50 blokes from the Air Force had arrived in Reception to also check in.
THANK YOU UNIVERSE.
This next part is not really relevant to the story, but in the middle of all this, I went to a rodeo with Renée the KOA (Keeper Of Acronyms). I mean who doesn’t love cowboys? And acronyms. So fun.
The next time I was lying on the lounge at home, just doing nothing and waiting for the (mild hangover) feelings to pass, I realised that my rules are very specific to me. They should probably not be followed by anyone:
a) extremely lazy (as opposed to me who has two speeds – Stop and Go. It is not the same thing as being lazy. Mainly) or
b) anyone extremely gullible (I am very suspicious person)
Because on the weekend I realised I had added a new rule to my list. Always go to the places/events that social media suggests for you. Just FYI, if you meet criteria (b) you will probably be scammed or kidnapped or both by following this rule.
I didn’t know that I wanted to go to a café that had a whole laneway dedicated to Van Gogh. Until Facebook told me. And that is the time when “Lie down on the lounge and the feelings will pass” and “Just do nothing” momentarily go onto the List of What Not to Do.
I got dressed immediately and caught the train to Sydney. Walked from Green Square to the Grounds at Alexandria. Followed the instructions to buy a takeaway coffee, so I could enter the exhibit for free. Decided I was thirsty after my walk and got a cup of water as well. Then right as the lovely staff member was letting me in, I simultaneously threw the coffee and water up in the air, then all over myself and the ground. The lovely staff member got me some paper towels to wipe my face, but the shirt was an unsalvageable mess.
On the plus side, I didn’t waste all the coffee. I went into the exhibit, sat down on a bench and refused to leave said bench until I finished my coffee. Consequently, I am in every photo that a tourist tried to take of the picture above the bench. Except the photo below that I took after I vacated it.
I spent the rest of the day wrestling with another demon. You may remember that I come from a family of teetotallers. That means people who don’t drink alcohol and are very against drinking it. Clearly, I have moved on past this. But the other part of the hardcore Protestant thing is “We don’t waste”. Once when I was 8, my mum found a six pack of beer at the park. You could see the dilemma in her head. “We don’t drink. I can’t waste.” In the end the not-wasting won. She brought it home and had big fight with Dad about using the beer for batter. She just couldn’t leave it there.
On the weekend, after the coffee disaster I spent 2 hours walking around the shops in Newtown looking for a new shirt. But deep down, I couldn’t bear to part with one of my four favourite pink singlets. I couldn’t waste it.
You’re asking why I didn’t just get a clean one and put the dirty one in my bag?
Did I forget to mention Rule 4 – never take a bag on a night out.
In the end I made a much better choice and sat at Corridor in Newtown for 6 hours where the coffee stain was hidden by the bar. It’s an excellent bar – thanks to the great staff – Keira and Alex. By the time I left it was dark, cold enough for a jacket and no one could see the coffee stain. I might have popped in to a gay bar after that, but that’s a whole other story.
