Hump Day

On the way home, I stepped out of the Chemist without looking. Yes, one of my pet hates, I grant you. Call me a hypocrite, I deserve it. Point now and call names. Well, vinyl coat lady must have thought the same thing, must have been one of her pet hates too. She proceeded to walk on top of me, in a cretinously-determined way. Her rudeness knew no bounds, I thought, I'm not having this! Well, don't ask me how it happened, my hand/eye coordination usually isn't so great, but as she walked on my feet, proceeding to turn left into Queens Street, attempting to trample me in the process, my foot, on a forward movement, caught her heal, on a backward movement and, sadly for all concerned, down she went. Face first to meet the footpath coming up at her. Splayed across the bitumen like the proverbial bag of shit.

The lights on Queen Street were green, the little green man flashed evocatively, as I stepped onto the road, as others rushed to vinyl-coat lady's aid.

I didn't look back. I proceed straight ahead, as steady as a Galleon, as Ruth Grenfell would have said.

That’s how I imagined it to happen, any way. Of course, she didn’t fall over. She got ahead of me and cut across in front of me and headed up Queen Street, without an excuse me, like she had a universally given right. She was too quick for me.

I was surprised at my anger, though and how quickly I plotted her death. I was pissed off about it for two blocks, I couldn't let it go. I was more surprised about that than any of her rudeness.

I thought, I was in a good mood. Bag day, Christian?

I think I am more stressed about giving up work than I realise.