So I finally took the good doctor’s advice. It’s 10pm, on a Thursday, and I’m just off work. I am headed to a bar. That’s right, its mid-week (end-ish) and I’m drinking alone after work. Keep reading and I think you’ll agree, I deserve it after the past two weeks. After passing a few places that looked as if you’d get shived for wearing the wrong colors, and a few places with nothing but old men and young ladies in dark corners, I found the spot–a corner table outside (it’s a lovely 20 even at night today) at City Wine with views of the parliament building.

Where to start? Work I guess, since that’s always the most time demanding constraint on my life. Last week, a seven day marathon of 2-3hrs of sleep from roughly 6am to 9am in an effort to finish an offering document for a large (think B not M of $$) issuance finally finished up on Saturday afternoon, for which I was tasked to turn the offering document each day through the commercial printer and act as liaison with a client who thought it was perfectly acceptable to send 100+ pages of edits at midnight and expect a new version available at 8am.

After one day of “rest” (during which, in a frenzy of residual adrenaline, we unpacked 75% of the boxes littering our new apartment so we could actually walk around without a knock on the shins and spent $800 at IKEA on a new desk an assortment of other $20 things that somehow always seem to add up to hundreds of dollars), it was somehow Monday again.

My task this week bright and early Monday morning — a form check of a 80 page SEC form against a company’s Australian disclosures to determine what additional requirements would apply if the registered with the SEC. At least the client seemed pleasantly surprised today at the “extremely thorough job” when I handed him a 100 page detailed chart of the differences / similarities.

For those of you blissfully outside the corporate lawyer world, these two tasks involve (1) decent penmanship necessary to transcribe 100+ pages of comments in 25+ one-liner emails from clients and other counsel by hand onto a master markup for the printer EVERY DAY (or should I say night) and a reasonable level of judgment to reject the occasional immaterial or just plain wrong comment from opposing counsel, and (2) menial monkey skills to match up section to section in separate documents and perform endless control+F key term searches, an appreciation for Where’s Waldo pictograms, and a whole lotta time.

Add to this:
1) 3.5 hours and two trips to Richmond midday for a literally 5 minute, $60 “doctors appointment” to get a script filled;
2) Four trips to the bank to try and get a certified check to pay the security deposit on our new apartment, culminating in me withdrawing $4k from the ATM, walking down Collins in apprehension, and using Westpac (NB: we bank with Citi), my stern lawyerly tone and a hint of desperation to get the job done;
3) hours on hours of continued unpacking;
4) a house with over 27 light-switches, including 5 automatic timers switches that tick constantly and sound like rats scratching and running up the inside of walls at 10pm; and
5) the magpies. Magpie — n., a type of bird as common as the pigeon in Melbourne which has a cackle that sounds like a cross between fighting ferral cats, a dying opposum, and a distant chain saw. The magpie is most active and vociferous between the hours of 2 am and 5 am, and nests en mass in a tree directly behind 1/10 Hosie Street, Richmond. 

No surprise here, two glasses and one exquisite tasting of cheese down and audience-less ranting complete, and I’m already feeling better. Just what the doctor ordered.