So I've got a gig in Sydney this Friday: yay!
And it's being filmed for a DVD: yay!
But to get cheapie tix (starving artist, er, I mean cheapskate that I am) I have to head down Thursday afternoon: yay!-ish.
The thing is, while not so long ago the thought of having a trip away somewhere minus the kiddlies would have induced me to a state combining goose-bumps, shivers of delight and saliva, since I got back from the USA trip, when it comes to these things I've found myself with severe and unexpected separation anxiety.
I hate myself for even being so silly - it's hardly like they're going to be neglected, after all, but the truth of the matter is that I now HATE leaving my kids, even if it's only for a night or two. I've pinned it down to having flashbacks to my USA trip last year and while it was completely amazing and I never could have done it with kids in tow, I also recall how horrifically and painfully I missed them. I left a lot of that stuff off the blog at the time, but suffice to say I spent many nights cruising around looking so red-eyed that if it ever comes to light that there exists an image that 'all Aussies are stoners' in the American consciousness, you'll probably be able to track that back to me.
So anyway, Sydney will surely rock, it's only two nights away, but still...I feel like I just need a drill sargeant:
Sargeant: Quit your whining, you damn slime-sucking self-indulgent slug of a mama! A trip to Sydney, you silly woman: be thankful! Now sit down, shut up and give me twenty!
Yes sir.
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