Monday

I leave home at 6.27am. It’s cold and dark. The street lights are still lighting the way.

A cute Asian boy in a red hoodie pulled over his head walks towards me on Gertrude Street in the dark. His smile looks frozen on his face, like it aches for warmth.

I see two trams head up Brunswick Street off in the distance. A stream of light, then it is gone. Then another glow of light, then it is gone too. Damn, I think, I should have left earlier.

A more sinister guy with a beard and a hoodie pulled up over his head with a coffee in his hand walks towards me just as I get to Brunswick Street. I chuckle to myself, I don’t think muggers carry coffee, generally.

I could shiver but the walking keeps me warm.

An 86 tram crosses over back behind me as I walk up Brunswick Street. I wonder about the benefits of catching that tram and walking down William Street, or King Street, but think that if I don’t pay in the mornings there is only stop the way I am going before the free zone, there would be more than that on the other tram. I used to walk that one stop, so I didn’t skip fares at all, but I got lazy. I’m not going to pay$6 for one stop. Bad me.

A black girl with hair pulled back tight into a ponytail and white headphones walks towards me, her white headphones reflecting the street lights in the dark.

6.35am. I’m on St Vincent’s Plaza with a girl wearing cat-ears-hat, who I think is abusing the tram for not coming, but then I think she is rapping, and then I think she is doing both. Anyway, it is strange her affectively calling out in the dark. A guy in orange hiviz with his hoodie pulled over his head, with shorts and muscular legs, appears out of no where. The girl with the cat-ears-hat raps away obviously to anyone around her, but she doesn’t get on the tram when it comes. Go figure?

I get on a 109 tram.

For your continued safety please remember to hold on, says the announcement as we whizz off down the Collins Street hill.

They are still working on the city square underground train station, everything seems to be boarded up on the Swanston Street corner.

The boy on the seat opposite to me coughs like he has some lurgy.

A boy all in black with what looks like a surgical mask gets on. He sits with the coughing guy, I think they are meant to be together.

I’m at William Street at 6.47am.

It looks like Stella Holden sitting in the middle section when I look up to get off, I’ve just been writing about her in my old blogs, funny how that happens. We didn’t part on good terms. But she lives in Williamstown and would be coming from the entirely opposite direction. I wondered if she was still with husband Adam. I guess her son Patrick would be in his 20s by now.

6.51am. I am in the lift.

7.04am. I have an emergency shit situation.

I make coffee.

Ourboybaz, with all his muscles, is in the kitchen. He is usually in next  after me in the mornings. He looks like he is making a healthy cereal breakfast. He says hello. He asks me if I have far to come in the mornings.

Big Ange is in next, walking like she is in pain, as she usually walks.

The Grand Pooh Bar is in at 7.50am.

Jason is in after them. He is looking cute in his green top, and jeans, he's always in casual clothes now a days. I so would do it with Jason. The fact he reminds me of Sam may have something to do with that. I reckon I look at Jason to intimately sometimes because I think he is sam, sometimes I catch him giving me a quizzical look. Chuckle.

It took me until 9am to get everything sorted this morning.

9.36am. All my morning work is done. Yay. 

There is some chick in the services department who has a terrible, loud voice who hasn’t shut the fuck up all fucking morning.

I want her killed.

My finance hit squad of 5 hot guys should just head in there and take her out. All you’d hear was the whoosh of their silencers, ft, ft, ft, ft, ft, and the sound of the bitch’s body hitting the floor like a bag of shit.

9.53am. The boys start having footy talk just outside my office, gritted teeth, screwing my hands into fists, fortunately this nonsense doesn’t go on for very long.

The deep sea submersible would have disintegrated in 0.4 of a second

The human brain takes 0.5 of a second for a realisation.

(Something like that)

So the guys onboard the submersible would simply have ceased to exist.

That is amazing, really. Zzzzzz, gone.

That was an interesting fact from the weekend that has stayed with me.

I wish Rachel happy birthday, she says she can swing by my place this arvo as she is visiting her gorgeous son, who’s just moved back near me. I saw him the other day, he is still a beautiful boy, even if he’s getting a chunkier arse than he used to have. Is it wrong to take a squiz at his arse as he walks away, a boy I held in my arms a day, or so, after he was born? I don’t know? He grew into a gorgeous man, which is hardly surprising as he was an angelic child. But, I’m in the office, sad face.

I’m pretty much done by 10.50am and am considering lunch. No lunchbox today, Sam didn’t make me one as I didn’t tell him until the last minute I was going to the office, so I am off out to get pies.

11.21am. I head out to get lunch. This is when lunch is when you start early.

A chick comes in the door as I go out, she says, “Sorry.”

I wonder what she is sorry about

11.31am. I’m back with my pies. I’ve got the rest of the day free at this stage. I wish I was at home.

Still, the sun is shining.

I go get another coffee.

One of the guys tells me in the kitchen I have been calling him the wrong name… for 8 years. Now that is embarrassing.

The big boss comes around with chocolates.