Originally published in The Clifton Courier May 26, 2017

I just realised how boring I am.

The other weekend my sister and her husband visited me in Sydney, and I was tasked with showing them the sights and showing them all the fun stuff I do now that I live The Big City Life.

I pointed out the Harbour Bridge, which led to a discussion about how much better we liked a bridge in Brisbane (in case anyone around us couldn’t tell we were Queenslanders). I directed their gaze to the Opera House. I showed them the building a work in. I showed them the library I once pretended to study in so I could charge my phone. I even took my sister on a personal tour of the dump shoot where I dispose of the rubbish I passive aggressively empty from the kitchen tidy every time it is overfilled with recyclable items (not that I’m bitter or anything).

I’d like to think there were some fun sights I’d forgotten to include on the tour, but the only place I forgot to point out was the bar that didn’t kick my friend and I out for licking up overflowed tequila off the bar using our fingers. And while that would hint at me actually doing something fun, it speaks more to just how stingy I am.

I was hoping to give my guests an idea of the super glam big smoke life I lead here. I wanted them to get the Sydney experience, Dannielle style.

And looking back at the weekend, I don’t know if I could say I gave them an all too thrilling idea of just how I spend my days in this overcrowded cesspit of douchebaggery.

The first thing we did was eat burgers at a place in my neighbourhood. An over-ordering of side dishes later, we went back to my flat for drinks. We got through less than a third of a bottle of wine before we decided to calm down and go to sleep. We’d played two rounds of a Scrabble knockoff game, after all.

The next day we took a long walk around the coastline and paid far too much for acai bowls (it’s like a thick smoothie with artfully-placed fruits, super foods and other wankery sprinkled on top). Then, deciding we had nothing else to do, we walked a further five kilometres back to my place so we could eat cake and sit down.

Unfortunately, this was an all-too accurate representation of my usual Saturday. Except instead of cake, I would be hoeing into an entire batch of a clean-eating spin on brownies. And instead of sitting down, I would be napping on my bare mattress as my sheets dried.

That eventing, despite all the restaurants and bars in Sydney, we ended up eating takeaway in a hotel room, drinking mineral water and treating ourselves to scratchies as a bit of a thrill. On the ride home, I carefully hid from my driver the fact that I had just spent three hours watching sitcoms instead of gallivanting about, deceptively telling him I’d “had a big day” to save face.

Usually my Saturday nights aren’t too different, except I don’t have to pretend to be cool in front of Uber drivers because I haven’t left the house.

Thankfully the next day was taken up with my sister’s premeditated plans, but when the afternoon rolled around we were left trying to fill time before their flight and it was up to me to come up with the goods.

We ended up watching dogs play in the park and getting right into House Hunters: Renovation.

And you know what? That was actually one of the highlights of the trip. And I don’t even mean that in a negative sarcastic way.

Perhaps it’s because the company you keep is more important than doing fancy, exciting things. Perhaps it’s because family is a bond stronger than any other. Or perhaps it’s because nothing brings people together like dogs or making fun of other people’s interior design choices.