Hump Day

Cool. Fresh. The air on my face. Morning in my street, overcast, grey. The bins scattered, the rubbish men aren't careful with them - strewn across the footpath, some over turned. I head down the street towards where I put them out and despite the scattering of everyone else's bins, mine seem to be, relatively, in the same place that I left them. Between my house and the next, as the apartments up the lane always put their bins in front of my gate.

SB1 and SB2 were heading towards me, in summer shorts and blazers. Fancy, I thought. Fancy that it would be warm enough for shorts, not that they looked fancy; even if they were quite baggy shorts, seemingly, with swathes of pale grey cotton, flapping around their bare legs. SB1, naturally, looked mighty fine in his.

Only the rubbish bin was empty, as the recycle men don't come until late in the morning. Slackers! I took the rubbish bin into my yard, get it off the street, before the before mentioned apartment people from up the lane take my bin as theirs, despite all bins being numbered clearly.

I stepped back onto the footpath, as SB1 and SB2 were level with my gate. SB1 and I caught each other's gaze; blue, interested, beautiful, clear - all in my head? I followed the two of them to Gertrude Street.

Wir, wir, wir, wir, metal on metal, the sound of a tram coming around the corner from Smith into Gertrude. SB1 and his brother took off in hope of catching the tram. Like a gazelle, he ran. Big steps, like the wind.

I watched them go, until they disappeared behind the tram.

Gertrude Street was busy. My old uni lecturer was having coffee in Arcadia, as he often is, in the mornings; sitting in the window, looking out blankly, never a look of recognition. There was a brand new, olive coloured 207 outside Arcadia on the street, I wondered if I could live with an olive coloured car. I concluded that I could, as I cruised on by.

I decided not to catch a tram, as I've gained a few kilos over winter. I've stopped muffins, at morning tea and crap food for lunch and dinner and I've made sure I walk to and from work every day. I have to counteract stopping the ciggies, also. I have to get fit. I have to get trim.

I have to go out and find myself a new bloke... no more Manny.

It's funny, when I say to the girls at work, or the girls in the cafe where I eat my lunch, that I'm getting fat, they all laugh and either say,

We wish we had the weight problem you have.

or... Oh please, you are so slim.