To whom it may concern

7 09 2014

The weekend brought the most joyous respite from all the crap. My girls went to my parents house and I went away for the weekend with two of the schoolie couples who had been going through the whole drama with me. We went to see Michael Buble play in an open air concert at a winery (say what you want about his music but the guy was funny as shit and the perfect tonic for all ailments). We had an initial debrief on all that had been happening and then we let it go. We ate, we drank (too much, yes a little ironic), we danced and we laughed….a lot! It was bliss.

I didn’t bother to answer my phone unless it was my parents. So I watched as the counter clocked up 47 calls from Mort over the weekend. The messages were the usual, ranging from begging, to ranting, to heavy breathing….none particularly coherent.

Returning home on the Monday, the memories of a fabulous weekend quickly withered as I sat staring at two little letters on a blank screen….CV (questioning myself if it was even called a CV anymore…was it a resume?). After many of years of being a stay-at-home mum I was going to have to get back into the workforce and in a very serious way. No income, certainly none in the foreseeable future in terms of child support, and already starting to chew through the savings…for the second time in a week I started to hyperventilate.

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