We had a pretty hard counselling session yesterday - there's a bunch of stuff we're digging through at the moment about how to act when we have conflicting needs, driven by multiple years of stress, PhD, cancer, etc.
Following that, we went for our usual debrief meal - we traditionally go out for a cheap meal after counselling, leading us to refer to our regular counselling evening as "Steak night". And during this, Julie said "I don't want to go home. I want to dance slowly to loud music somewhere." To which I, tiredly, said "I don't think there's much on on a Monday, but we can put some on at home."
And we did. And then, at about 9:30, Julie came into the bedroom where I was reading, and said "Right, I'm getting dressed, we're leaving in fifteen minutes." And we did.
We got to The Hive at 10:15, which is indeed generally full of scum, villainy, and students who are completely wasted on terrrible cheap vodka. But at that time was completely empty. Which was awesome, because the "alt" dance floor consisted of the two of us and a very bored DJ. Who recognised that we were "olds" and just kept chucking 90s music at us. We got to dance to The Offspring (Self-Esteem), Faith No More (Midlife Crisis), Garbage (When I Grow Up), Linkin Park (One Step Closer), Guns 'N Roses (Welcome to the Jungle), and unexpectedly awesomely Blodhound Gang (Ballad of Chasey Lain). And a bunch more that's now blurred together.
By which point it was around midnight and other people started to fill the place up, so the DJ switched to more poppy tunes. We enjoyed YMCA and Uptown Girl, but when we hit the point where he was playing Steps (Reach for the Sky), Whigfield (Saturday Night), and Rednex (Cotton Eye Joe) we decided that "running away" was the better part of "not listening to this shit" - this was around 1am, and having been dancing for nearly three hours straight I was dead on my feet. And the nice thing about it being a week night was that there were lots of taxis about, rather than a 40-minute queue for them.
Today, Julie was....not entirely well. She woke me up at 8am demanding dioralyte rehydration sachets, and then I couldn't get back to sleep, so I got up and surfed the internet until 10:00 when she woke up again and demanded soup (which she ate in the dark), and then I left her to go back to sleep again, where she stayed while I went out and met Lizzie for lunch, which was lovely despite us spending a lot of time chatting about our relative stresses.
Here's what Julie looked like _before_ the six vodkas:
There will be no photo of the after-effects.
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