It's got to be floating around somewhere

After teasing Anney with the merest, slightest suggestion of a post, if and when I felt I like it, I've finally decided to write one. It hasn't been easy you know, whilst having the flu, outings and yes, even work on the side. On the plus side, I had not one, but TWO days off in the last two weeks. Which is practically a record for me, what with my perfect record of presenteeism and all. Yes, presenteeism. Where's that urban dictionary sidebar when you need it.

So here we are, 2 weeks later, and I've only just started on this post. I can just imagine Anney thinking, god, and then it'll take another week before she even posts the bloody thing. Gah! Hee hee, right you are, Anney, right you are.

Well, enough procrastinating I suppose. SIGH. Where was I? Right, procrastinating. Anyway, it was all Anney's idea. She'd jumped onto the latest bandwagon popular right at this very minute with bargain hunters, which is coupon-buying. Not your run-of-the-mill shop-a-dockets, (how many hyphens could I get into this sentence? Count 'em!) god no, but proper, group mania-like vouchers that offer hard-to-believe savings. The catch was, I had to take a day off work, which I wouldn't normally do, dedicated as I am, but in this case, I was compelled to. COMPELLED TO, I tell ye. Besides, it was the only appointment time they had. And surely I couldn't be held accountable for that.

And what appointment was this for, pray tell?, I hear you ask, in that tone. Why, my pretties, it was actually for a floatation tank session at this Bondi Junction centre. That's right, floatation, just like Dr Hibbert prescribed.

Dr Hibbert: Well I could prescribe some harsh antacids, but I think Lisa would benefit more from some herbal teas or aromatherapy.
Lisa: Yeah! You know, some of that all-natural stuff is really very well -
Homer: Oh, no you don't! Screw that touchy-queery crap! We'll take the harsh antacids. Nothing's too good for my little girl!

We hadn't been to Bondi Junction for ages, and we luxuriated in the surrounds of its Westfields for a while before our appointment. There was something about the place that struck me as definitely bourgeois, maybe it was the cowhide leather winged chairs and lounges and moulded wood sculptures strategically placed throughout each floor. Or maybe the presence of some high street boutiques. No, it was probably the food courts, with views towards the city in the distance, and even the seating wouldn't look out of place in someone's living room. The one for show that is, where you have tea and biscuits with your guests and "catch up". Whatever, the point is, the food court was a bit lah dee dah, and you wouldn't get this out at the west, that's for sure, not even at Parramatta. But you can't blame them for trying. It's alright, you'll get there some day, Parra.

Our appointment was for about 11:20, or something. The lady briefed us with what to do before and after the 1 hour session, and then we were left to our own devices. The room was large enough to contain two of these floatation tanks, a shower and a locker. After showering quickly, we popped earplugs in and ventured into the tanks. They each had a little roller door like a bread bin. Apparently they were filled with a secret mixture of tepid water and epsom salt, which was crucial to helping us actually float, as the water only came up to the knees. I felt like trying it at home in the bath, I'm pretty sure it's just a matter of finding the right portions. And bob's your uncle, you've got your own open-air floatation tank. Jealous?

A bit of music played to indicate the session had started, and it stopped after a while, supposedly so that you can fall into a dream-like state of relaxation. The water felt slightly warm, and it had a syrupy feel to it because of the salt, I felt like I was getting ready to pickle myself for an hour. Mmm, salty. For a while I was staring at the light through the slats in the ceiling, and getting a bit bored. Maybe I was trying too hard. It was dark, and I thought I might as well close my eyes and feign deep sleep. All I remember is this sense of weightlessness, suddenly wondering if my jewellery was going to corrode or be encrusted with salt as I'd forgotten to take it off, wondering what time it was, and wishing my earplugs were waterproof and could be hooked up to a music system. But other than that, it was kind of relaxing. After a while I was feeling tired just lying there on my back, and I wanted to turn over onto my side and get into a foetal position, but the water wasn't dense enough, even with all that salt in it. But just as I thought I could get used to this, it was all over too soon, as the music started up again, and we were gently reminded it was back to gravity. Ugh, gravity.

Afterwards I queried Anney as to what her experience was like, and she also felt the same, she just couldn't just let herself go and fall into a coma. I could hear her in the other tank splashing about, probably trying to get comfortable. Or maybe she was making a game out of it, I don't know. Maybe we just weren't used to the level of relaxation that it offered, if only we could have relaxed enough...

Alien: We offered you paradise. You would have experienced emotions a hundred times greater than what you call love. And a thousand times greater than what you call fun. You would have been treated like gods and lived forever in beauty. But, now, because of your distrustful nature, that can never be.
Marge: Mmmm. For a superior race, they really rub it in.

Funnily enough it was rather relaxing while we hung around afterwards blowdrying our hair and availing ourselves of the free tea and cookies, which I thought was a nice touch. The little lounge area also had a couple of tarot card sets for the waiting floatees, so we had self-taught mini readings. Anney did a better job of it than I, giving a much more insightful reading about whether the powers-that-be thought Vay was my soulmate (apparently they thought he may as well be, and meh, whatever), whereas I couldn't be half-assed giving a proper reading. That's how relaxed I was.

We decided to head back to Westfields for lunch... after detouring down the road trying to find this jazz place I saw on one of those street map directories, with the vague diagrams of where things are. Those things always put my sense of direction off - "You are here" my arse!

By the time we made it back though, there was only half an hour left of yum cha at this Chinese restaurant with a variety of barrang and asians thrown in for good measure. I was vaguely tempted to join them, but with only half an hour left before the session ended, and only a couple of lonely trolleys being pushed around, it didn't seem worthwhile. And as anyone knows, yum cha is one of those things that you need a couple of hours for, just to eat and digest, and to obviously take your sweet arse time with it while people outside are giving you death stares while they're still waiting to get in. Ah, yum cha.

Alas, we had to settle for getting takeaway. I got a half decent meal of five spice duck and flat rice noodles that stuck together like good waffles, annoyingly enough, whereas Anney had a bad experience ordering fried rice and a few soup dumplings. Apparently they just didn't understand her order, despite her repeated attempts to just point out what she wanted. I wasn't there myself, but from what she told me, I'm pretty sure I'd be pissed off and writing a blog about it.

We browsed a few shops after that, and I don't remember buying anything, since Louis Vuitton was a just a tad out of my price range, and Anney was feeling sick, but I did manage to get a lint remover as Anney's shearling jacket kept rubbing off on mine. Hmm, I wonder if she wore it on purpose to stop me leaning on her as we walked? Hmm, well played Anney, well played. Oh well, guess I'll have to carry it around with me from now on, heh heh, don't want to miss out on any leaning opportunities.

Yeah, so that's about it really. All in all, it was an enjoyable day out, and I can't complain when I've been floating and eating all day while people at work are working their arses off for me, surely.

Hmm, I've used the term arses a lot in this post haven't I? Must be the aftereffects of all that floating.