“**#!#%&@*!” A string of expletives comes out of my mouth as the alarm shatters my sleep. Monday morning! Again!
“Aaargh!” Sigh. I drag myself into the bathroom, groping in the dark. Somehow, my brain refuses to send the commands for my eyes to open fully. It’s probably still trying to enjoy the last lingering sweetness of sleep.
“**#!#%&@*!” Another string explodes as the cold water hits my face. My brain is awake now. I rushed my shower and was back in the room in no time. My brain starts to think of what to wear. An intelligent brain I have, but a lazier body. I know, from the bottom of my heart, that figuring out what you’ll wear in the morning the previous night can save you 30 minutes of dressing time. But I refuse to! Am I cursed? I say my prayers.
Sigh. I drag out clothes though. And a pair of shoes. Check. It looks neat. No need to shine them. Clean socks (don’t mess with athlete’s foot I remind myself). Dress up. Overdose myself with perfume. Why bother? I don’t even perceive them by the time I get to my car. Sigh. I pray other people do even up till close of work.
Rev my lovely mercedes’ engine. She’s old but she’s an awesome piece of engineering. Sally. She has taken me places. So when people ask “who drives this museum artefact?” I just wink at her. They’ll never understand.
Get to work. Pray to find parking space that is close enough to the office but won’t damage my career (parking in your bosses’ spot would do exactly that!). I’m 30 minutes early and I manage to occupy the last spot in the “nearest” space for people like me. Yea, that red camry behind me can’t park here…I took the last slot.
In the office now. What do I do? That’s story for another day. Most of my work is supposed to be on the field though so if it looks like I don’t have anything to do in the office, please don’t tell HR.
Looking up some office babes on the company network. Office babes. Hmm. Sounds tempting. Like the fantasies we had back in our broke school days. Dating a working class chic. Hmm. My friend recently got threatened by his banker chic – now ex. She was going to acidize his face if he tried to collect the expensive phone he had bought for her just before she dumped him. He had been totally played. She’d monitored his accounts and then flirted her way into his life. Sigh. What is the world turning into?
Fantasies don’t ever cover the minor details… for instance that a working class chic would still ask for N10,000 monthly maintenance fee from her boyfriend. Nor that that fair maiden you were breaking your head for would rather hang out with your boss. Hush. Don’t think about it too much. Just shake your head and keep fantasizing. Hmm. Mary is online. Should I…. Oh. There’s an email. Excel sheets! Lawd NOooooooooo!!!
Tuesday. Wednesday. Same. Thursday. Is today Friday? No. Sigh. Same. Friday!!! Yaaay! No night events this weekend. Sleep! Real chilling is when you have no alarm to wake up to. Watching tv. My phone rings. Gurl from Uniport. The rest of the evening is story for another day. Respect the school, that’s the point here.
Saturday. Sports club. 10am. A few good friends. That’s really all we need here on earth. A few good friends. We play lawn tennis. Maybe I should call it tennes because it’s nothing like what is seen on tv with the Nadals and Williams. Professional amateurs we are! But we have fun. And then table tennis. More fun. 4 pm. Everyone heads home. Some of us would have body pains for days.
Sunday. My birthday. I’m really shy about things like these. So I hardly tell people just before. Special apologies to Ify. I get loads of calls and messages. I’m sure I won’t read the ones on facebook for instance. Gave up trying to reply them all years ago. But it does make you appreciate yourself and people around you. A few of my friends come to the house too. I laugh even more pains into my body. Lord I thank You for my life and the life of the people I know. A toast to how far we’ve come!
“**#!#%&@*!” Monday morning! Again!
Written by Kenzo.