Cold Wednesday

Only one seat vacant, I spy, as I turn away from the ticket machine, freshly minted ticket in hand. Boy in a beanie. Cute. Ipod. Handsome, from what I can see. I head straight for him. He's encroaching a little onto my seat. That's okay, I like that in a boy. Warm leg, I love it, I don't miss an opportunity. Mine fitted nicely into the concave of his thigh - you know, on the side, just behind his knee. I pushed it right against his, as I sat down. I held it there. He didn't flinch, didn't move. He was nice and warm. Strong. Comforting. It reminded me of having a boyfriend, what I miss. I was tempted to rub his leg with mine, but I resisted.

Do you know that people thank the tram driver, as they get off. It's a funny, old fashioned notion, now isn't it. "Thank you driver." I suspect it's all the Christians trying to worm their way into heaven, indiscriminate acts of kindness, making up for the non-Christian lives they, actually, lead. Or is it the obsessive compulsives marking off their mental check lists. The terminally disliked desperately attempting to shore up some favour. The sexually addicted trying to get a cheap, morning thrill? Even a suggestion. Titillation - the sexually addicted come cheap.

I grunt, if that, like all good commuters should. Yeah. Cheers. Thanks a lot. There's a job well done. Good onya mate.

I feel good walking down Bourke Street - cars hungrily taking up as much room as they can on the road. CBW is nearly finished, so soon I won't have to walk down the middle of the road because the footpath is blocked off to pedestrians because of the continuing construction work. I wonder how they get away with such a safety breach.

It's the first time, in a number of years, that I haven't felt miserable in this proximity to work. I've felt happy ever since I resigned. I'm getting a hint of freedom and I want to taste more. Today, I've decided to go for the 6 months Leave of Absence option. Against my better judgement, really. Then I'm not changing my life, just having a break. (My still small voice thinks I have wimped out, but I'm ignoring it) Maybe, aim for another 6 months off, once the first 6 months is up. Maybe never return, at all. But first, I am going to convert the resignation to a L.O.A.

There is a whistle on my lips and a skip in my step, as I saunter down Bourke Street.