The sky is darkening as I write. Outside, I can hear the happy sounds of city revellers and King Marong & Afro Mandinko in Federation Square, aweing crowds with their rhythmic 10-piece dance band. Before too long, early fireworks will be displayed for families and children to herald in their new year before bedtime.
Most likely I will be following them with Sandman, to rest my sleepy head. My sweaty lank head of hair. And my dry un-made-up face. And my aching body wrapped in layers of PJs, doona slippers and throw blankets from the couch. This year will be a feeble celebration, alone, from my apartment in the midst of a jubilant city.
To think, just four days ago, I was partying with the winning Australian cricket team at the illustrious Spice Market and chatting with the very handsome Andy part of Hamish & Andy (who is much taller than I expected! and deceptively hardbodied).
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| Some guy, me and the Andy part of Hamish&Andy |
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| Michael Clarke and me.. i believe he has something to do with the Australian cricket team..? |
Naturally, when I told him, he made every excuse to avoid seeing me (hence the reason he is my ex) hence, the reason I'm home alone with my exhausted wrung out smelly body, instead of out being glamorous and drinking with the girls.
At least my mind and body are too preoccupied with battling germs to allow me to wallow in the ironic tragedy of my sad situation. Yes, I do think the term 'tragedy' is a touch melodramatic, but tonight is a dramatic kind of night! Aside from the loud music and the big bangs, the city is electric, alive with people smiling, united in hearts and dreams of the promise a fresh year brings!
Deep down, in the slumbering spirit of my being, I feel it too. With a smiling heart and fingers crossed, I will fall into sleep and wake in a brand new year!
*** Welcome 2013 ***
