I So Don't Want To Go, But He's Having None Of My Nonsense

Sam and I walk to work. I so don't want to go, but he's having none of my nonsense.

"I'm sure I'm not well enough."

"You are just being lazy, move."

I pull sad, sick faces for the entire walk. Initially he laughs, then he looks exasperated. Finally, he says he will photograph the next tragic expression, he knows I hate having my photo taken at the best of times, very clever. It shuts me up, if not because of the perceived threat, because of the thought I have to put into the idea of him doing that.

He's funny, I've missed him. He scampered off Saturday morning and hadn't been sighted since. Oh, who could blame him, I wouldn't want to be around him either, if there was a chance that I could get the flu.

Of course, he turned up last night within half an hour of me smoking my first joint, with Shane and Sebastian. Then he looks suspicious when I say I hadn't had any for 2 weeks. It's true.

I get to work, and the first thing my new boss asks me is how I am? I think okay, here we go, my one shot at heading home again. I tell her I felt alright when I left home, but now I was going hot and cold and I could feel buzzing in my body and my limbs. Sad face.

She said that we think we are all right, but we’re not. We get sick of doing nothing and we are bored and we come back too early. She said she thought I was still sick and that I should go home.

You know, they all think they are just so important and that they couldn’t possibly get sick, today's corporate angst. So, it becomes about them and not about you. Don't give it to me. Go home.

Like taking candy from a baby.

So, I go home.

It’s a lovely day, the sun is shining, the sky is blue.

I buy smoked oysters and mussels at the milk bar and head home. 

I raid the mull bowl from last night and smoke a joint straight up. Then my ears block up and my head feels thick and I have justification for being home.

I brew coffee and brake out the Carrs water Crackers.