Super lazy

I am super lazy. Although, in other ways, I am marginally less so. So, ying and yang. Good cop, bad cop. Whatever. We can’t have it all. Why do good things happen to bad people?

I would just like to take a minute to acknowledge all of my recent achievements. I have been exploring my own backyard.  I have been stepping outside my comfort zone. I have also been overachieving at work.

Let me explain.

The last few weekends, I have been out and about falling even more in love with this beautiful country that I call home.  I have been climbing mountains, fording raging torrents, fighting off [the New Zealand equivalent of] of bears. My tramping wolfpack consists of three people. It’s exclusive. However, the third wolf, I think it would be fair to say, is not as experienced in the Great Outdoors as the other two wolves. Therefore, not knowing what to pack, this shewolf brought with her a preposterous 3 pairs of bedsocks on our overnight tramp. Although, I will claim full responsibility for, rather conveniently, forgetting to tell her that the track went straight up a large hill for over three hours. But things get better than the ‘3 pairs of bedsocks’ incident. Her confidence the rest of the wolfpack was not diminished, despite the lack of communication about the track being a vertical climb which, in hindsight, should have raised alarm bells. Needless to say, the next time we took her tramping with us, she decided it would be a good idea to fall down a bank and sprain her ankle. Up a gorge. With no track. Or avenue for help (don’t you hate the sinking felling of watching someone you care about disappear off a ledge?).  At which stage the wolfpack had do some pretty quick thinking as to how we were going to get that one wolf back out down the gorge. With no track. Or avenue for help .

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So we did what all normal wolfpacks would do. We made her walk out. On her own two paws. Because she was a strong independent young wolf who don’t need no man.

Buckler Burn

Mueller Hut

Oh hey there, pal!

On her own two paws

Not a tramp without a fire

Hooker Valley

Aoraki

Now, stepping away from the wolf pack situation and into a much more terrifying situation…

What could I possibly be more terrifying that watching a wolf from your very own wolfpack disappear over a small bluff? Ah, yes. You guessed it. Attending dance classes. And, as many of you know, I don’t dance. Like at all. Unless I am exceptionally inebriated. And even then, it’s usually more of a drunken sway that could be mistaken for an attempt to walk in a straight line. But no. Now, every Tuesday night, I put myself through an hour of voluntary torture and mortification just so that I know that I can do it. And if I can go to dance classes, I can do anything. Including graciously receiving compliments from my dance partners such as, ‘you could be worse,’ ‘that wasn’t terrible’ and ‘keep trying.’ Although there is always that one guy who refuses to dance with me, because I’m terrible at following.

Lies.

I’ve been achieving things at work, too. Well, actually, the majority of my calculations are wrong.  But that’s neither here nor there. I get paid for trying. But this week, my friend, office buddy and partner-in-crime (one person) and I stole (I use this term loosely) 4 garden gnomes from a careers expo. And, as all normal people do, we have spent the rest of the week painting said gnomes as caricatures of each person in our research group. Including our boss. It’s actually very meditative. If you are feeling a bit stressed, try painting a garden gnome. None of this adult colouring book bullshit. We just took the adult colouring book idea to a whole new level; added an extra dimension, if you will.

Like this. Except less weird. 

Kinda. 

Aside from that, I am starting to wind down and focus on getting paper work sorted for my imminent departure from NZ in less than a month’s time. But I wouldn’t want to spill the beans and tell you where I was going. Because then I would have to clean up afterwards. And I hate cleaning. And I hear cliffhangers are the best way to keep people reading. 

The million dollar question.