Off to Jill's For The Day

It's my day off. But, so is tomorrow. So was Monday, shrug. So days off are't exactly a novelty. I wonder if I should be more concerned about my situation? There is a down turn in job vacancies. Or is that a down turn in jobs? Whichever?


No, I'm not scouring the job vacancies, don't be stupid. That would show some sort of traditional... oh... what would you call it? Some sort of sensible concern for the future, my future, what may come in the future. I'm off to help my friend Jill today. She finished work June 30th. She's doing some minor house renos and I'm helping lift and carry. I'm the muscle... no, don't laugh. It is damp repair, which is not the glamourous kind house renos, as you may have assumed. No it is not the installation of a new chandelier... or an exercise bike, as may be more befitting Jill's current, oh what shall I say, physical state. I guess it would be called maintenance.


She said to come over at 10am and not to be late. This is from the woman who will be late to her own funeral, I kid you not. I laughed at her and  assured her my name wasn't Jill Wilson, but now it is looking a little touch and fucken go. I knew it was a bad thing when I switched my computer on, as I reached for my cereal and coffee. Bad Christian.


I've got to have a shower too. 


And eat my muesli.


Shit!


Fuck it, it is my day off, after all. I can get there at whatever time I want. No, I can. I'm the one doing the favour, after all. Hands in the air. Quizzical look. Head tilt. You can't get told off when you are the one doing the favour, late or not. Wouldn't you agree?


Whichever? I have to hustle.