So I’ve decided to write stories on my blog about my mundane life.
Starting off with this morning.
I woke up, went back to sleep, woke up, had a shower, got back in bed and went back to sleep. I then got up, again, packed my bag looked at the time and jumped back in to bed for an extra 3 minutes of sleep before rushing out the door to catch my train.
Waking up in the morning is hard and only made harder by copious amounts of booze consumed the night before. Then there’s the kebab breath. Should’ve opted out of the garlic sauce the habibbi working at Sarays suggested (Sarays is the best kebab joint in Sydney). I always go in there, they know my face. So last night I decided it was about time they know my name. In the way my coffee lady, Amanda, knows my name. Except I’m usually not pissed out of my brain everytime I see her. So, I told this guy, ‘My name is Vanessa and next time I come in here if you don’t remember my name you have to give me a free kebab’. I made him repeat my name so he’d remember. He told me his name too but I forgot that immediately. I bet he was happy when Nads and I finished our Kebabs and got a cab home.
But y’know what? Nads and I detoured. When we jumped out of the cab we were drawn like flys to the warm lights and smell of fresh baked goods coming from LUIGI’S!! Luigi’s is our friendly italian baker across the road. They make great bread everyday at 1992 prices and they usually sell out by lunch time. They start baking around 12 in the morning and so by around 3am they have hot, steamy baked goods cooling on the racks. Mmm.. my mouth would be watering right now if I wasn’t still full from last night. So we had a chat to Luigi. We bought too many croissants, a loaf of brioche and a couple sour dough rolls. Who knows why? We just ate a freaking hectik kebab. Nads and I combined our shrapnel. It cost us a total of $7! Luigi is our mate now, too. He said next time we come in it’s on him. I didn’t demand he remember my name tho. Next time I will.
How am I going so far? Still engaged?
I went to a friends house party last night. When I tell people that I have to work in the morning it always solicites the same response, sympathy or empathy. I see it like this: I’m hungover. I’ll waste my day at home anyway. I might as well get paid. So although getting my butt here was a fucking mission, it’s worth the twenty-something dollars an hour they are paying me. But my day just got better. I finish at 1:30pm. Yippee! I thought I was working till 5. I win. +5 points to me.
So I’ve reached a point where if I continue to stop doing work whilst at work they are going to notice and maybe I won’t have any work any more.
V
NB: Read regularly to notice changes in writing style as technique improves.
