Sunday, April 22, 2012

Sunny Sunday

The first thing I knew was that I was getting my face slapped with moisturiser. Sam’s handsome face was looking down at me.

“I got the call, I’ve got to go.”

His project is finally being launched. It is being released over the weekend. All of the IT boys were warned that they could well be called in at sometime over the weekend.

“Oh.” Half asleep. “Okay.”

Mumble mumble mumble “Get ready.” Mumble mumble mumble. “Lunch.” Mumble mumble mumble. “Gotto go.”

And then Sam was gone. “Fucking Liberty! Fucking Liberty!”

Some how, as I was to expected to understand later, that his parting mumble meant that I should get up, get ready and be ready for the call from Prince Sus to go and meet him in the city.

I was up at 10.00am, I remember it being all zeros, 10.00. For some reason I always here Bubble saying that. “One… O… O… O.”

I had muesli and coffee.

Laptop on the coffee table.

11.30am

Second pot of coffee.

12.15

I’m ready. Have you showered? Come in and pick me up, asked Sam.

I was still in my pyjamas, of course.

It was a lovely warm sunny day walking into the city.

We eat a Japanese lunch at QV, like boyfriends who lunch. The sun shone down.

I see the first Z number plate in Lonsdale Street outside the old Myer Lonsdale Street shop, actually, more outside Melbourne Central. Yes, Victorian number plate that begins with Z. I always like to note when and where I see each of the first letters.

Sam had a $15 hair cut in Elizabeth Street. He wanted me to have one too, but call me old fashioned but I have two days work in the next two days and I like to have a haircut preceding days where I can put colour in my hair, so as to get maximum colouring of the just cut greys.

We walk home from Elizabeth Street in the correct direction... despite Sam pointing off in the direction of Footscray to walk home, when I go to cross the road. He looks perplexed and points west.

We made baked potatoes. Lovely they were too. Baked potatoes for two nights, what is that, roughly $5 each, probably less, because these two fat boys ate the equivalent of two serves each Saturday night.

We watched Beaconsfield.

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