Never have I spent an entire day in bed watching movies. Until yesterday. After attending my nearest ANZAC dawn service (which was the longest and wettest I have ever seen,) I returned home a) drenched, because I didn't have an umbrella, and b) tired, because 4.45am is not an acceptable time to have to wake up. I decided to go back to bed and woke up 4 hours later, ate breakfast (at 11am) and then returned to bed where I watched the entire first season of Game of Thrones. (So. Much. Nudity. blegh.) As I finished the season I was interrupted by a knock on my door, which I did not want to answer. Not having been up all day, I had not brushed my hair, put on decent clothes or given any though to my appearance, and so I pretended I wasn't home. I thought I was safe, until a few seconds later, my landlord rang me. He was still standing outside, and when I answered the phone I was sure he could hear my voice, so when he asked if I was home, I caved and said I had been asleep, give me a minute and I'd be out. I then answered the door looking like the worlds biggest ming rat, to receive 3 parcels, an easter egg, two containers of dog food and a pair of undies in a plastic bag that I had accidentally dropped in the laundry. I probably looked like a zombie, and he barely hung around long enough to explain that the dog food was for the puppy, and could I please feed him while they went away this weekend.
I then decided I should vacate the house and went out to dinner with some friends. On the way to the pub we were eating at, we passed a restaurant called "The Duck Republic." I got very excited started yelling about ducks, before googling the place so that I could know what it was like and when I should plan a visit. I found that instead of being the duck friendly establishment their name implies, the main feature of their menu is actually duck. I was horrified, and now feel a touch less enthusiasm to dine there.
It was then my friends turn to start yelling, as she had spotted an attractive male out her window. Instead of pointing to him like a normal person would, she started knocking on the window and yelling quite loudly. We don't know if he actually noticed or not, because we were all either laughing too hard to see, or too mortified to look; it wasn't exactly a subtle first impression to give.
Today I drove to the airport to pick up a friend, and as I did, my day was made. As I stopped at a set of traffic lights in Brighton le-sands (a very appropriately named place for this story,) a man with crazy hair and an impressive moustache came out a coffee shop on a unicycle. He then rode off down the street with his takeaway cup and not a care in the world. I feel that he must be the worlds original hipster.
Little Duck, out
P.S Did you notice that this post had absolutely nothing to do with leprosy? (Unless you count me feeling like a leper when I had to answer the door.) Tricked you!
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