The Dreaded Return of the Thursday Thirst

May 8, 2009 at 6:32 am (Uncategorized)

Ugh. After all the excitement of yesterday’s discovery, I soon found myself developing something evil known as a Thursday Thirst. This is a condition commonly affecting working Australians and other assorted barflies. It basically involves a desperate race to the cocktail cabinet. By five o’clock, I could barely contain myself. I think the expression is “gagging for it.” Llew had a trivia night fundraiser to attend, but one of our friends who lives locally was free and willing to drink with me (I don’t dig the solo session), and thank goodness, too, because hell, I wanted to celebrate. 

Quite what I was celebrating was unclear at the time and is even murkier now… I was certainly rejoicing in the serendipity of the thing, but… there remained pressing questions, including ‘What if he doesn’t write back?’ I still don’t know the answer to that little doozy, but the question is currently doing laps around my fevered mind and it seems to be on track for a medal. There’s been nothing but silence so far, and I have a tendency to despair when I write to someone and they don’t write back. I tend to assume they hate me. They never liked me. They don’t want to talk to me. How did I get this address? I’d like to say these fears are entirely unfounded, but they’re not. I’ve had people blow me off, people I thought were my friends, so when silence strikes, I immediately find myself tensing, thinking it’s going to be just like the last time I totally misapprehended a relationship. That is, pretty awful (shudder).

Maybe that’s why I got thirstier and thirstier as the afternoon wore on, for surely a desert thirst had gripped me by the time the sun went down. It would make sense if my desire to drink copious quantities of wine was related to my fear of rejection. And not hearing anything for a whole day – now two whole days – when I was and am bursting with beans about it was and  is a form of torture. I’m like the puppy that’s been left home alone, jumping so high every time someone strolls past the shrubbery. Arf! I’m over here! Come play with me! Yes, you! Hey! Hey, you there! Come back!

It’s pretty lonely here on the other side of the hedgerow with no one to play with. And I have this really cool game, too. Because this collaboration is going to be fun. When it finally happens, it’s going to be really, really fun. I know that, so I should try to calm the hell down, but I can’t. Too busy jumping.

Anyway, as you know I’m still in my six months of moderation, but I was borderline last night by the time J and I ran out of wine. I was good and on my way. And that’s fine, it’s May and I’ve been so much better for the first five months of this year than at any time in my life from the age of 14 onwards that I am not planning to beat myself up for having maybe one and a half glasses too many. Forget it. I had fun, end of story. 

But today I am tired. And the truth is, I slept poorly for the extra glass and a half, and I didn’t go for a run today because I felt so exhausted, and I’ve eaten crap all day, and it’s been nothing but a big fat reminder of why I’ve been happy dodging the Thursday Thirst infection for the last four and a bit months. So now it’s lesson time here at DoctorDi HQ, not playtime at all. 

Anyway, I was productive today despite my vino vapors. I’ve written a creative brief for the images as well as describing the genesis and evolution of the project. This brief is an essential document no matter who comes on board, and in my experience, it pays to be prepared. But here’s hoping I do hear back from Marcelo. My friend M tells me Marcelo is still at The Australian, so if need be, this abandoned puppy is going to morph into a fully fledged terrier. I’ll just jump over the damned hedge and chase the nice man down the street.



  1. litlove said,

    Poor Di! I do sympathise. This makes me think of something written by Jacqueline Rose who said that the major characteristic of fantasy was it’s nature to run away with you, to tilt you into headlong racing attack. You’ve got a lovely fantasy tormenting you concerning artistic collaboration, and, as is fantasy’s way, if it can’t get good satisfaction, it’ll settle for the dark, self-destructive sort. However, most of life is boring and mundane. The guy is probably off on holiday! I’ve got my fingers crossed he turns up very soon, with arms open wide.

  2. Grad said,

    This reminds me of a story. When my sister was in high school, she went out on a date with this great looking, nice kid. She really liked him and expected that he’d call again. We kept saying, “He’ll call.” No call. “He’ll call.” No call. Eventually, she started throwing stuff at my brother and I every time we teased her with, “He’ll call.” Now, when we want to rub something in (in a sibling tease sort of way) we’ll say, “He’ll call.” But in your case, I really do think…he’ll call.

  3. Grad said,

    Editorial correction: “my brother and me.”

  4. doctordi said,

    Litlove, I’m happy to report fantasy and reality are beginning to converge. But yes, how close is the descent into savagery…

    Grad, your poor sister!! But I love those timeless in-jokes, and that’s a beauty!

  5. Pete said,

    I can definitely identify with that puppy. More often than not recently! (And the spam thing doesn’t help with the bloggers either.) I’m guessing from the post title above that this fantasy is becoming reality. Yay and jump up and down!

  6. davidrochester said,

    I’m still kind of laughing and kind of not at the expression “gagging for it.”

  7. doctordi said,

    It is all wrong when you stop to unpack it.

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