Fuck Mondays. Monday is the day where we all try and get our brains back into function for work or whatever measly activity requires full focus. For me, it was job hunting.
I woke early. Got myself showered and in my black slacks and black faded pinstripe long sleeve shirt and made my way out the door. Just as I stepped into the road, I saw the bus coming from up the street and fucking ran for it, losing a shoe and dropping my bundle of shit. Luckily the driver saw my flurry of madness and pulled over for me, telling me he admires my butterfingers and timing. I couldn’t help but laugh, he’s right. My grip is less than loose at best and my loping grace leaves much to be desired.
Once onboard the bus, I take my seat and start reminiscing about love lost and flames that burnt out. About the girls who had stolen my heart only to discard it a few weeks or a couple of months later. Life is a cruel mistress at times, and at others, she is merciless.
Stopping in town, dressed in my Sunday best and leaping from the bus in an excited leap, I land on the brickwork of the station and take off up to skill hire. On my way over the car park, I see my good mate Dustin and his Mrs Lyra walking the way I was heading so I bolt over to say hello.
After a brief chat and walking them up the street, I make my way up, as they turn right onto main. It’s a beautiful day, I’m nearly motivated and actively looking for work. I say nearly motivated because the last few days, I’ve just wanted to sleep until this feeling goes, but I’ll soldier on and keep on keeping on.
I can’t be fucked finishing this post, so I’ll wrap it up here. Take care all. Fuck Mondays.
Posted from amongst the tangled interwebs…