On Friday night, Nick had a house-cooling party at his place. Curious choice of timing, giving that (a) he was moving out the next day, (b) the cleaners were coming at 10AM, and (c) he hadn’t done any packing. Worst of all, (d) I had signed up to help him move! Kristy took pity on us both and helped out as well (and let me tell you, she assembles moving boxes like a true little champ!).
The party was great – heaps of people showed up to help cool the apartment down, including one random guest who threw a full bottle of beer down to the patio below Nick’s where it promptly smashed. But it was ok; he then explained that he was “just joking around” – and of course that made it all better.
Surprisingly, even though the party went quite smoothly, the waking up the next morning did not. We went to bed at the fairly sensible hour of 2:30 AM (we were staying over for convenience, which also meant we were partying right to the end); and yet for reasons still unknown to me, I was rather displeased and still quite tired when 9:30 AM rolled around.
As promised, the cleaners turned up promptly at 10 AM, and for some reason they didn’t seem too overjoyed with our progress. I got the impression that the lady who been assigned to the kitchen was a little underwhelmed when she exclaimed, “Lord, have mercy on your daughter!”. In her thick Jamaican accent, it gave me quite the chuckle.
Anyway – to cut a long day into a much more manageable size – we finally finished up around 9 PM, and Nick took us to a local pizza restaurant as a thank you. We all demolished our meals as we were famished from the exertion of carrying boxes around all day. We were tempted to stay out and go to another party, however given that I actually fell asleep at the dinner table, Kristy thought it may be wiser to go home to bed.