Monday hooray!

13 02 2007

I tell ya what, it’s good to be looking down the barrel of the intertubes again. My weekend went something like: painting A&K’s place–> party –> sleep –> hungover painting A&K’s place –> collapse –> fuck, it’s Monday morning. No time for even a quick surf on etsy. And you lot are such prolific writers, especially you, ABC News. So many little blue numbers in my rss feed. Oy.

This morning I was late to work because I slept in. Normally it doesn’t matter what time I get to work unless I have a meeting. Unfortunately for me, this morning I had a 9am meeting. It takes me half an hour to get to work. I woke up at 8:36, suddenly, like a zombie coming to life, screeching inward gasp of air and a scramble through shower clothes hair breakfast teeth pass where’smyfuckingpass out the door whoops need shoes ok all good go go go ignore the red man. Made it, a little breathless but mostly composed, at ten past. Not too bad, apologised, meeting proceeded. Let’s call it strike one.

Unfortunately for my inner sloth I had another meeting in a different building at 9:30, which would have been fine if I’d been on time to the first one. But the first one ran late, so 9:40 saw me briskly skipping along George St, running the agenda for the next meeting through my head. There were some people at this one who needed to think I was responsible and capable, and amazingly I’d had the presence of mind to put on something resembling grown-up clothes in the mad scramble barely an hour earlier.

“Fuck, great impression, 15 minutes late. But at least I look vaguely professional,” I was thinking as I got in the lift. The mirrored lift. The mirrored lift clearly showing the slash of white paint down the back of my left arm. And its matching friend on my right elbow. And dabs all over my left wrist. Because of my wise decision to just have a short shower when I got home from painting, thinking I’d have a long shower in the morning, thinking sleep was more important than getting rid of the last of the paint from my arms.

Very professional.

Walked in, apologised for being late (again). I said, “Sorry, I had a 9 o’clock meeting that ran late.” No need to mention it ran late because I was late. Everyone was very understanding. I kept the backs of my arms against the chair. Meeting went well, ended, everyone filed out. Phew, nearly home free. I paused to talk to my boss (who works in a different building to me; it’s all a bit confusing).

“A 9am meeting? Didn’t I see you walking to your building at about ten past this morning? I was running late and I could swear I saw you crossing the street,” he said. “What’s that white stuff on your arm?”


Strike two.

Oh well. The day goes on. Went out for lunch and a bit of a wander around the mall. With very little warning, it started to pour down rain. Not gentle rain, either. Fat, summery droplets slamming into the ground. I was standing in a shop doorway with a 2pm meeting on my mind and my building in sight down the road. I suggested making a run for it. My companion pointed out we would get very wet shoes, which wasn’t a problem for her as she had a spare pair, but I didn’t.

Good point, I thought. I took my shoes off, scandalising the other people sheltering in the doorway. What the hell, I thought. It’s a twenty second dash down a rainy street. Who’s going to see me? Who’s going to care?

We ran, laughing, down the street and made it to our respective desks relatively not-soaked. And with dry shoes, in my case.

When I got back from my meeting I had an email from my director waiting for me.

Strangest thing, I just saw someone running down the street barefoot in the rain.
Do we need to pay you more so you can afford shoes and an umbrella?

Strike three. I’m out.

Tomorrow, I’m getting up at 6am.




3 responses

13 02 2007

What colour was the paint???

13 02 2007

Purple. Darkest purple.

13 02 2007
the duck herder

oh rocketeer!monday from hell.hee heebut i laughed and laughed!!!!!

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