In The Office

 

My day to go into the office. I'm up early, had breakfast and coffee and ready to go by 6am.

Go to the office, I think as I sling my bag over my shoulder. Go to the office, er? Stupid company making me go to the office. Grrrr!

It’s raining outside so, as you can imagine, I’m less impressed than I was before. Seriously, can we have another pandemic?

It’s raining all the way to the tram stop, not heavy rain, but rain enough to make me wet by the time I get to the corner, and that is mostly under awnings.

6am. I make it to the tram shelter cnr Brunswick Street and Gertrude Street. The young Asian chick already standing under the shelter looks momentarily scared at my intrusion. Er, sorry, I want to say, but of course, I don’t. Another chick in a camel coat joins us, taking one of the cold, metal seats.

I start Foreign Tongues in my headphones and the scared chick and the camel coat fade from my consciousness.

6:05am. The tram comes.

The three of us get on out of the rain.

The tram is relatively sparsely populated.

Spring Street and I am legal. Ha ha.

Swanston Street. A gaggle of tradie boys get on in hiviz. A whole work team of them, and suddenly the tram is full. Lots of blokes. As far as I can see. It's the beginning of a porn movie.

6:17am. I'm off the tram. There’s some idiot with a leaf blower halfway down Collins Street. Get a broom and sweep them up, you dope, I think. I don’t really care though, I’m just making my way to my office in the dark.

6:20am. I’m in the lift.

First thing, I make coffee.

I get everything done by the time everyone else comes in. Then I do absolutely everything I have to do by lunch.

I stumble across a video of Buddy and Brun down by the Yarra and Brun looks so happy. It comes up on my phone.

Makes me think life is a process of diminishing returns, it really is. In the end you lose everything and you get less and less and less.

I get a salad and a muffin for lunch.

I think Boris is shitty with me about her holiday relief? Oh well, what can you do.

I’m bored after lunch. Everything is done, I’m up to date and scratching around for things to do, which I really hate. Apparently, Boris is snowed under, well, if you’d been nicer, I might have offered to help. Nyr? Whatever.

I listen to the Rolling Stones all day.

I can’t shake off feeling sad after seeing Brun so happy walking along the path next to the Yarra. What’s the point, I can’t help thinking, when something, someone, as good and as lovely as Brun dies. 

We’re inching towards home time, come on hours pass quickly.