My Monday

My mechanic calls mid morning to say my car was ready. I dropped it off last week and hadn't anticipated it being ready to be picked up for a couple more days yet, as I am getting wood delivered in the morning and the wood man needs a clear area to dump his load, so to speak. My mechanic said they wouldn’t be working Friday holiday, but apparently, they did work last Friday.

So, I headed off to get the car. Gotta love working from home. I stuck my headphones in my ears, turned Exile on Main Street up and off I went out into the sunshine.

I’d sent Boris a number of questions I wanted answers to before I left.

When, I get back, an hour and a bit later, nobody seemingly noticed me gone, Boris tells me she’d sent the questions to ThePonyTail for answers. 

WHAT? Oh? No, I just wanted your opinion. (She wasn't dobbing me into HR, they were questions involving staff benefits)

Of course, HR hadn't come up with any answers.

Early afternoon, I had to post back a purchase to an eBay trader after the merchandise I bought didn’t match what I'd ordered. The seller hadn’t seemed keen, initially, to do the return, and had delayed, but after a strongly worded reply he had coughed up postage, closely followed by a full refund, recently, so I had to do the return. 

So, I popped off to the post office. Of course, all the counters were busy with people sending Xmas presents to family for the next 10 years, possibly on Mars it was taking so long. So, there was a wait. And plenty of time to listen to The Rolling Stones in my headphones.

After I'd finally got to the counter and bought my stamp, I did some window shopping. Nyr! What's the rush, I thought. Summer is in the air.

Then I signed off at 3.20pm. Oh, come on, I started at 6am.

It’s hot, it’s muggy, having walked the dogs on their normal walk, and now stopped at the supermarket, I’m sticky. What do they call it, close? Is that when your closes stick to you? Or is it when the air becomes thicker? Shrug? The weather is kind of warm.

It’s kind of grey, overcast, but it’s not cold, which is nice. A welcome turn around in the temperature.

The dogs and I are waiting outside the supermarket. Sam shops. We seem to go to the supermarket every day. I’d like to say can’t we organise a few less supermarket excursions and a little more 'stocking up'? But, I don’t wanna have to have any responsibility for buying food, that’s just shit, nobody wants to do that on a regular basis. So, I can’t really argue about going to the supermarket less than every day, if that’s what Sam wants to do, if I’m not prepared to, er, make decisions about our menu. Does that make sense? I think it’s a bit boring this every day at Woolies, but, what can you do? That’s how it is.

The dogs have their tongues out, panting away. They walked okay, not too many protests, not too much sniffing along the way.

And now we’re here. It feels like a little hint of summer in the air.

I avoid one of my dog walking friends, as I'm just not feeling it today. (Let's face it, I'm not feeling it most days, which leaves me wondering sometimes if I'll end up a lonely old man one day?)

An orange scooter loaded up to the hilt, I think is the expression, with shopping takes off. Boom! Bang! Crash! Over the gutter. I feel for his arse, um, er, chuckle, that wouldn’t be the first time.

A car turns into the side street nearly running down the pedestrians crossing the road. So many people behind the wheel don't seem to understand that drivers must give way to pedestrians. Do you know, drivers have argued with me about it on more than one occasion. Learn your road laws is usually the last thing I say to them.

A super tall black woman, with a lime green velvet hat perched on the very top of her head waits for the traffic to stop so she can cross the road. A super tall black guy stands next to her, giving her suspicious side eye, at the same time he is holding the, um, er, material of the front of his shorts, like he's… well, I guess you know like what? And if his super tall stature is anything to go by, I’m surprised he isn’t holding it out further.

A guy comes and stands right next to me and talks on his phone, oh, swallow him up planet, is all I can think. And as he struggles at the edge of the sink hole, grabbing at the side with the earth crumbling in his clawing fists, I’d do nothing but stare. Would I step on his fingers, no, I don’t think I would. The thought made me chuckle, though. He must have felt the wave of displeasure emanating from me, though, as he gives me a look, and then pads away up the street pretty quickly.

Smith Street is really kind of quiet for an afternoon, though. There aren’t many people around. It is like the punters are away because of the public holiday, maybe, you know, they’ve taken a long, long weekend, which, of course, is possible. 

Or, are they just worn out after the big grand final, and they are still recovering at home, in detox, a gutter some place? Who knows?

I don’t know.

But, I think summer is coming. It’s the first time this year I’ve felt that. It's nice. I close my eyes and can feel myself mentally stripping off and feeling the sun on my skin. That lovely warm glow one gets when a perfect sunny day warms your exposed skin. I feel a chill down my spine in anticipation.