Sunday, July 23, 2006
Morning has broken
I was semi-awoken by the sound of birds chirping and gentle sunlight through my window. In my slightly-less-than-comatose state, I struggled to recall the events of the previous evening. After the briefest of contemplations I gave up and turned over lazily to continue sleeping.
But something was not right. There weren’t supposed to be any birds. There wasn’t supposed to be any sunlight.
The sudden realization hit me like a freight train.
I burst out of bed and glanced at the clock to confirm my worst fears. Yeap, I forgot to set my alarm clock and was now woefully late for work, which was way beyond reach by public transport. If I had jumped onto a cab NOW, I would have been only 15 minutes late, not to mention $20 poorer. I hadn’t even completed a month at work and now I was going to clock in late before I even got my first paycheck. Not exactly a stunning impression to leave on the boss, not in the right way at least. It all seemed like a horrific nightmare and I was hoping to wake up and find that it was 1am, but the pain in my toe as I stubbed it against some random piece of furniture confirmed that I was very much alive, and also very much dead.
Adrenaline kicked in as I hobbled around the room and hastily threw on the first set of working clothes I could grab from the cupboard. I rummaged frantically through my desk for my wallet and phone, spilling some of its other occupants onto the floor. All manner of expletives ran through my head but didn’t have time to come out of my mouth. Dashing to the toilet, I strangled the life out of the hair gel tube and slapped the strangely-alcoholic smelling substance onto my hair before running a comb through like a rake on hay. I grabbed up my bag and did a quick equipment check as I raced out of the door.
All this while, 90.5FM was playing in the background on my Dad’s hifi, providing a grotesquely mismatched 80’s disco soundtrack to my horror movie. He was seated at the dining room table in his pyjamas, reading the papers with a cup of coffee. I’m usually the first to wake up in the morning to get ready and Dad gets up just before I head off to work, so there’s usually this overlap to ensure that I don’t oversleep. Which didn’t quite work out on this occasion.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He looked up from the papers with a look of surprise and incredulity, like I’d just suggested to him that the world was flat and carried on the shoulders of four giant clowns who were brothers of Ronald McDonald with colour-coded afros and had television screens on their posteriors.
“Are you crazy?”
“Today is Sunday.”
But something was not right. There weren’t supposed to be any birds. There wasn’t supposed to be any sunlight.
The sudden realization hit me like a freight train.
I burst out of bed and glanced at the clock to confirm my worst fears. Yeap, I forgot to set my alarm clock and was now woefully late for work, which was way beyond reach by public transport. If I had jumped onto a cab NOW, I would have been only 15 minutes late, not to mention $20 poorer. I hadn’t even completed a month at work and now I was going to clock in late before I even got my first paycheck. Not exactly a stunning impression to leave on the boss, not in the right way at least. It all seemed like a horrific nightmare and I was hoping to wake up and find that it was 1am, but the pain in my toe as I stubbed it against some random piece of furniture confirmed that I was very much alive, and also very much dead.
Adrenaline kicked in as I hobbled around the room and hastily threw on the first set of working clothes I could grab from the cupboard. I rummaged frantically through my desk for my wallet and phone, spilling some of its other occupants onto the floor. All manner of expletives ran through my head but didn’t have time to come out of my mouth. Dashing to the toilet, I strangled the life out of the hair gel tube and slapped the strangely-alcoholic smelling substance onto my hair before running a comb through like a rake on hay. I grabbed up my bag and did a quick equipment check as I raced out of the door.
All this while, 90.5FM was playing in the background on my Dad’s hifi, providing a grotesquely mismatched 80’s disco soundtrack to my horror movie. He was seated at the dining room table in his pyjamas, reading the papers with a cup of coffee. I’m usually the first to wake up in the morning to get ready and Dad gets up just before I head off to work, so there’s usually this overlap to ensure that I don’t oversleep. Which didn’t quite work out on this occasion.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?”
He looked up from the papers with a look of surprise and incredulity, like I’d just suggested to him that the world was flat and carried on the shoulders of four giant clowns who were brothers of Ronald McDonald with colour-coded afros and had television screens on their posteriors.
“Are you crazy?”
“Today is Sunday.”
# posted by BloozeGit @ 9:14 am 
