Tortoise or the Hare?

Really, Kris Kringle, I thought as Big Ange shoved the hat in my face and told me to pick?

Then the person buying for me didn’t know what to get me, as grumpy as I was about the whole cliched Kris Kringle thing, this made it worse. I worked it out for “my person” people, give it some thought.

Mel was asked to ask me what I wanted. So, I have to think of more than one present, I thought, really? How about fucking surprising me, I thought, as I held a completely straight face gazing back at Mel.

“I dunno.” I shrugged. I headed back to my desk.

Eventually, I asked for a plant, so as to avoid landfill.

I was given a plant in a (tacky) decorative pot which had no drain hole. When I, rather, maybe, ungratefully, pointed this out, I was told just to give it less water.

Just stupidity, I thought. And now I have to fix it.

So, I carried it all the way (walking) home and drilled a couple of holes in the bottom.

This morning I was carrying it back again. Briefcase in one hand, plant in the other. Swapping arms when they got sore, which didn’t really help as my arms never really got relief.



The athletic chick passes me on the inside coming down to the old treasury building, walking faster than me. In her activewear, of course, strapped singlet over her toned shoulders, arse like a pear. Of course, I get my back up because she pushes into me as she passes with her headphones on, and her “can do” attitude. Me with a bag in one hand and a pot plant in the other, my arms starting to ache.

Bitch, I think.

I jay walk at Spencer Street and get ahead of her heading down Collins Street.

Purposefully? Of course.

She passes me in front of Collins Place. I jay walk at Exhibition and Russell Streets. She’s passes me again in the straights, in front of 101, and in front of the Regent. We both hit Swanston Street at the same time.

I have forgotten about my aching arms.

She takes off in front of me, as the little green man is displayed. I jay walk at Elizabeth Street and was out front again. She passes me at 333 Collins. I walk straight across Queen without stopping, or without seemingly blinking an eye, and was ahead again.

I got to the finish line first, even if she didn’t know where the finish line was, even if she didn’t know there was a finish line.

Briefcase in one hand, plant in the other.

I wondered, was I the tortoise or the hare? I laughed to myself at the thought.