It was my birthday on the weekend. Growing up, birthdays were THE day, THE best day. Super.
I found myself at night alone on the couch as my husband was away for my birthday. Not so super.
At least I have a couch to sit on. Super.
Was concerned about new wrinkles appearing around my eyes and cellulite on my thighs. Superficial.
Trying to obtain food and household stuff from the place that has it all under one roof while steering a crap trolley and four excitable children on a Friday afternoon. Supermarket.
Helping a really close friend through a love crisis of the male kind. Supernova.
Watching for friends amongst the sequins, feathers and strobe lighting in the Mardi Gras Parade. Supersonic.
There was an intense session of play-doh at the dining room table. Supervise.
I wake up on Sunday and there is a pimple on my chin that could be requiring a birth certificate. Supersize.
A cubby house evolves from beanbags, cushions and some serious imagination. Superstructure.
Confusing letters received in the mail about money in funds that may as well be written in Mandarin. Superannuation.
New Asics runners that make me feel like I am running on cushions and therefore sadly tossing my well-worn Pumas out. Supercede.
With Indhi, discussing Gondwana and giant kangaroos and wombats that used to roam the Earth. Supercontinent.
My ability to beat Brett every time we play chess is precision and skill passed on from generations on the Smithers side of my family. Superior.
The Sydney Swans and its Blood Brothers history. Superlative.
Two nine point goals kicked outside the 50 metre line by St Kilda. Super goal. Arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
Hayley Kirk
Also-known-as-The-Other-Half
