The headache I could feel brewing last night moves in, puts its feet up on the couch and makes itself a cuppa. I beat at it with ever increasing dosages of codeine and the West wing.
It is determined but I am stubborn. I take more drugs and head out with a picnic blanket and a book, insistent to let Luca have some park time whilst avoiding drunks waving Australian flags.
We score – the early rains must have dampened the nationalist fervor. Coburg Lake brings just some happily playing families and a handful of folks who are napping off their earlier celebrations.
We both look at ducks together in frustration.
It’s a bad night for both of us.