It�s Friday. Usually a good thing.

I get to wears jeans to work with an entirely clear conscience. Not that I couldn�t have done that at least three other days this week, but I just settled for leaving my sneakers on instead of changing into more appropriate work footwear.

Given that I�ve had a work-motivation-free week, Friday was looming as a particularly good thing. Except for the one little road-block on the horizon: lunch with my mother.

Some of our relatives are visiting from overseas and really the only window of opportunity for me to see them was the second half of this week. They, and Mum, have been and will continue to be flitting all over the country and the countryside, and are leaving for interstate again tomorrow.

So Mum suggested that they come into the city today to do some shopping and then come and have lunch with me. Fine and good. Convenient, and relatively painless once I convinced her on the fourth go that I was allowed to take more than a hour for lunch so they didn�t need to rush.

After a lengthy discussion about feeding the parking meter and which tram to catch from the car park to my office they eventually made it to the lobby of my building and I went down and met them.

Mum: We didn�t buy a ticket on the tram because we only have notes and (in a very surprised tone) the machine on the tram only takes coins.

Me: Yes, it does. The machines on the trams have only ever taken coins.

Mum: The machine looks exactly like the one at the train station at home, except it doesn�t have a slot for notes. It only takes coins.

Me: Yes.

Mum: I haven�t taken a tram in years and they didn�t have those machines back then.

Me: You�ve taken a tram with me at least twice in the last year.

Mum: When? No I haven�t.

Me: When we came into the city for lunch for Boofhead�s birthday, and for your birthday last year. You parked the car at my house and we caught the tram in.

Mum: We walked in didn�t we?

Me: No. We caught the tram. And you paid for your ticket with coins.

Mum: Really?

Me: Yes.

Mum: Anyway, we�ll need to break some notes to catch the tram back.

Me: I have plenty of change, I�ll give you some.

Mum: Okay. They don�t take notes.

Me: I know.

A short time later, Mum has gone to order drinks to go with lunch and returns to the table slightly harried.

Mum: I�ll need to put it on the credit card.

Me: (Hoping the drinks at the place I�ve taken them for lunch aren�t suddenly outrageously expensive.) Why?

Mum: I�ve only got $15.10 in cash and its $15.30.

Me: Here�s 20c Mum. And I�m paying for lunch.

Mum: No, you�re not paying for lunch.

Me: Yes I am. If nothing else, you just bought all the drinks. So I�m paying for the food.

Mum: Okay. I�ll need to go to the ATM to get notes to break to get change for the tram on the way back to the car.

Me: *Sigh*

I survived lunch relatively unscathed, largely thanks to the nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc I had with my fish. I was at one point very tempted to have a second glass but on return to the office was glad I had avoided that (largely to avoid prolonging lunch), because a minor crisis with one of Priscilla�s projects had grown into a major crisis and I had to step in and play the enforcer with the party causing the problem. Which took up most of the afternoon but now that it�s sorted out it kind of feels like Friday again. Which means I�m ready for that second glass of wine, in the pub, without the need to return to the office for two days.