So I made this playlist on Friday, eagerly anticipating a sunny and relaxing weekend in which its chill tones would chime gently out of my portable speakers as I lay on a miraculously screaming-toddler-free and grassy knoll in Prospect Park directly adjacent to the Brazilian Gay VolleyBall Championship Finals, with a bunch of my besties, a bucket of Pinot Grigio and a vast amount of charcuterie. I would then report back smugly about what a great playlist it was and share it with you on Monday. That was the plan. But, lest we forget, this is REAL LIFE and that certainly didn't happen. Instead I did chores, navigated some dull business stuff, played phone tennis with those besties that were, in fact, nowhere near the grassy knoll and rescued my retarded cat from the neighbour's garden after she fell off the roof (she's fine, I cried) and so I technically had no use for this playlist whatsoever. It also rained. Profusely. But that's when I actually listened to the smug bloody playlist. On the sofa. With a cup of tea. Noting thankfully that we would at least be able to last another day without the AC being installed and feeling relieved for my thirsty and wilting concrete garden. And it was lovely. What a great playlist, thought I, rain or shine. So here we have it, two days late, the perfect playlist for your not so perfect weekend, or weekday, or whatever. On the third day, she shared it. And It was good.