So this morning i woke up at 7am for the third day in a row. That makes 8 straight work days of getting to work on time. It's also pay day and for the first time in months i had a 78 hour fortnight rather than the 70-or-so hours i've been getting recently. Damn, i was feeling good. I started walking to work and was thinking about how lame my last entry was. I was thinking about what i would write when i got home:
I shouldn't make entries on Sunday night. I'm always the most depressed on Sunday nights because i'm dreading having to go back to work the next day. Of course when Monday comes around it's never as bad as i was dreading, and i just do my work and get stuff done and all is good. And Australians aren't really all that bad, i mean, i even like some of them.
That's what i was going to write. Hell, that's what i was still going to write around lunchtime. Then came the headache from hell, the second in a couple of days. But you know, i got through it. Then my eye started killing me. My contact lens dropped out and left my eyeball pulsating and stinging. I rinsed my lens in the bathroom and put it back in again but it just got worse and worse. But even that i pushed through and left at 5pm, hoping to get home quickly and cook something yummy.
It's now almost 7pm. First the bus took forever. Then it drove up a few suburbs and stopped. Yay for traffic. Normally it's not that bad, but okay. About a half hour later it gets the half-mile downtown. Where ten zillion people promptly jump on. By this time i had taken my lens out and was holding it in the hand i had free (the other one was covering my eyes and clutching my head to try stop the pain).
Another half hour later it gets the last half-mile to my house. Well, actually about three stops past because apparently the bus driver didn't realize people had pressed the button numerous times. Get out of the bus and let out an exclamation of frustration and relief (fill in the blanks). And then... and then there are another zillion people on the street. Yes, it's game day at Lang Park, which means zillions of people walking to the stadium and zillions of people either getting drunk beforehand or watching the game at the 7 or 8 pubs along that stretch of road by my house. I storm through, get yelled at for pushing people out of my way, and go to the pizza shop. I don't wanna cook any more. And there are a zillion people at the pizza shop. They don't have any barbecue left. I fume and grab a slice of pepperoni and a slice of Hawaiian and i'm out of there. And now it's 7pm and i just wolfed down those two slices while typing. And i don't feel so bad any more. God fucking damn. Today was great till it started sucking. I need a cigarette.