Shannon, you know how you said that things here were all topsy turvy when politics is a safe topic and relationships aren’t? Well, the madness continues. Antonise is a hard-core capitalist. Maja is a wee communist. And Rowan and I fall on the spectrum inbetween, him on the more capatilist end, me being a socialist at heart (its all about fairness, how could anyone not be) on the communism end. Anyway, the point is, very different opinions, but nice civilised, entertaining and informative discussions were had.
Jump forward to the car journey home, relationships came up again, and once again things got heated!!!! Honestly, I really hope part of it is just cultural cos man do these guys go at it during an argument. It was about marriage, and weddings, and basically Antonise said he didn’t see the point of marriage if you weren’t going to have children, which none of the rest of us got. After that we drifted into the much safer territory of abortions, disabilities and the adoption process.
There really isn’t any point to the above, other than to share the madness.
Anyway. Our working week has been jiggled about a bit, and we will now be working Saturday, which means we are going to have Thursday off instead. So a plan has been concocted (despite my protestations). On Wednesday we’ll work, stay in the city for dinner (its too far to go back home) and then to salsa.
Guys I’m bricking it.
Maja and Antonise are huge salsa fanatics. Rowan is a poor naive boy who has been duped into thinking this will be fun. FOOL! I know better. It will be a cringe fest. I will inflict multiple injuries, possible to multiple people in the one smooth move (this is experience talking not pessimism). My poor colleagues have been attempting to give Rowan a crash course in salsa and bachata. I’m fairly convinced they think I’m a misery guts because I haven’t been joining in, just watching whilst knitting my blanket (it’s for their own safety, and mine, I have a healthy sense of self preservation). But what they don’t realise, I know the basics (thanks to Zumba), it’s not so much that I can’t dance, but rather that when I do chaos ensues (think broken noses, twisted ankles and that’s not including my own injuries).
So folks we need to hope the fairies of grace visit me over night and bestow on me some much lacking grace so I can get through tomorrow evening without incident.
We also need the style fairies to help me come up with the perfect outfit to go from door knocking to salsa. Because folks that one is alluding me!