I wake up from the end of a memorable dream of 2 cows who had been given woolly jumpers by the United Nations In Bishkek, and the camera panned to the cows with colourful woollen jumpers and their owners next to them. Literally no idea where it came from but who cares, it’s colourful.
It’s 7.20am so I start the day listening to Patrice O’neil on an old radio show. I actually laugh a lot. Laughter is best therapy. I do my 100 star jumps and get ready for work. I’m 20 minutes earlier then normal. Last day vibes. It’s cold outside but the sun is shining. I pass people much earlier then normal. The guys on the road have nearly finished the sea wall. Eminem’s current album is blasting away in my ears. Traffic is full when I cross the road. My work fancy goes into the building ahead of me and I watch her walk upstairs. For a young mother she still has a great body. I never took her name. It wouldn’t have mattered. I never made an effort to know. I never wanted to be the step-father. Half the floor is empty since I’m earlier and most of the team is not in. I slink in and say good morning to the earlier risers.
The day consists of me stringing along enough work to look busy. It’s a struggle at times, and the works staff efficiency software shows my productivity at below 20% by the end of the day. But I don’t care about that, I know my value. One day it was 300% efficiency, and no one is that good. Even though I like to think I am, I say to my boss when she questions me about it in the morning. I’m funny this morning. I joke with everyone, colleagues, even my boss. Even she’s laughing. And when I sit down at my desk, I ask myself why I was never like this before. But I realise it’s all a state of mind. It doesn’t happen overnight but accumulates till it’s ready. And I’m ready now. Perhaps Patrice is having an effect.
Lunch time swings around, and I do my daily swim. An old man hogs the slow lane and although he initially annoys me I forgive him when I move out of the way. I hope I look as good as him at his age I think to myself. I wonder whether to say it but decide to keep it to myself when I see him in the shower block afterwards. The swimming pool has its own routine. My locker is either 133,135 or 137 on every trip. I enjoy the routine. I don’t have to follow it, but I like it so I keep it.
Change closer to the pool when going in, change near the door on the way out.
Struggle to avoid getting things damp on the way out. When I return to my desk at work, a leaving card has been left. I appreciate it, but so many get sent around that even I am apathetic about it. Every week someone has a birthday or is leaving. I struggle to imagine that anyone put a great deal of thought into my card, and it devalues it a little bit. But like I said I appreciate it. I ask my colleague if she will miss me. She says she will. I ask if she will me asking her if she will miss for the 12th time and she laughs. The humour is good here. We had a good team; and it will be a little sad to leave. But I will see them for drinks on Friday. I’ll get a round in, and we’ll see what comes out after that.
Although I’m looking forward to see everyone again I’m not looking forward to to drinking. It demotivates me and It feels counterproductive to my weight loss efforts. But we’ll take it as it is. That’s life. And that’s my Wednesday.
I’m watching Netflix and it’s the dramatisation of the Ted Kacznski case and the Unabomber. Probably the first time I’ve felt genuine revulsion and fear from a television show in a long time. Then sleep. Happy Wednesday. Tomorrow the next chapter begins
The Journey 