A carton of happiness, big smile

Sam flew to Sydney for work. (He tried to keep it secret from me, as he knew I’d plan a couple days of smoking, but David was asking him to go look for a new computer with him and Sam had to come clean about going interstate to work.)

I had it organised with Guido in no time. Blah, blah, blah, going to the airport early, can you leave it in the usual place.

Sure, said Guido.

(Sam usually catches a 6am plane, the night before he let it slip he was catching a 9am flight. WTF? I’d organised a 5am pick, but I didn’t get there until 7am, which was handy, in a way, as Guido had forgotten to leave it out. At 5am, I couldn’t have rung him, I would have just had to return home disappointed, but at 7am I didn’t really hesitate to call.)

“Ullo,” his voice croaked, barely audible on the other end of the phone.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Oh, give me a minute,” he says

Guido came out his roller door with an egg carton in his hand, I’m pretty sure his eyes were still closed.

“I’m really sorry,” I say.

“Not at all,” says Guido. “My fault. I’m sorry.” He shoves the egg carton at me.

“I feel bad,” I say.

“Fuck off,” says Guido. He turns and slips under the roller door as it was going down again. Dismissive hand wave.

Sam wasn't even on the plane, when I had the first blunt rolled. I wonder if he's worked that out yet? (He knew what I was doing, even if he didn’t ask for the details

I've taken two sick days from work, right in a busy time, they'll be pleased. Who cares! Oh, I might work Friday. Isn't that a good work life balance, after all, swapping days with ease when one particular day doesn't suit you in any given week... is a good thing.