Monday Sickie

Ah, Monday morning. The rush, the crush, the blush of the working week starting all over again. Busy, busy, busy, must fly.

But wait, I have to go to the tooth doctor, at 12.15. Who in their right minds organises a dental appointment smack, bang in the middle of the day? I guess it was me.

The city by 9am, the beach suburbs by 12.15. It just seemed like too much rushing around to get to work and then get to St Kilda, so I took a sickie.

The usual amount of guilt washed over me, as I slipped back into bed, you understand. But not too much.

The sun shone gloriously as I drove down Punt Road, with time to spare. My gums are much better, the dentist, Martin, is so pleased. As I am.

"You've been smoking, though," said Martin, a little on the accusatory side.

"Yes, a little, but I've stopped now," I said.

Nothing like a little creative reality visualisation.

There were plenty of buff boys in shorts and singlets to keep me amused, in the sun in the beach side suburb. I bought a falafel, afterwards, and enjoyed the moment, perving on them as they walked by.

I've had a mid afternoon nap, my balcony doors open, a gentle breeze stroking my skin.

Now I'm going for a massage - I think I'm getting a sore back from sitting at my computer for too long.