Oh my, Boring Thread, I feel you are a thread that is worthy of my time and typing efforts.
Today, as usual, I was woken up by my kitty Tiger meowling and pawing at me for breakfast. I get up, feed her, and stumble back to bed, checking the time on my phone as I fall into the lonely messy covers. It is usually about 3:30AM. At 5:30 my alarm goes off, but I strike out madly at my phone until it stops the cheery music, and I have respite until it starts up again at 6, which is my "Emergency Have To Get Up Now Or Else" alarm. I shower, washing my hair and cursing at the mess the shower always seems to be in. I brush my teeth quickly and dive back down the hallway, strap my watch on and realise I spent fifteen minutes in the shower, shove some clothes and makeup on and leave my shoelaces untied because I'm always running late for my bus, which comes at 6:30. Today I managed to miss it by the smallest of margins. I blame the little red man at the crossing. He takes so long to figure himself out. It doesn't help that I live on a very busy highway.
Since I missed my bus, which is actually a pretty rare occurrence, I decide I can either wait the 20 minutes until the next bus, which takes half an hour to get to work, or walk to the station, ten minutes away, to check my chances at catching a train that will (usually) get me there in ten minutes.
The train doesn't turn up till 7, I note glumly as I pant at the top of the station stairs. I collapse onto a wet bench, not caring that I will have a damp bottom all day. I debate the merits of plugging myself into my ipod, decide not to because, you know, sometimes it's nice to hear things other than blaring post-rock through earbuds that really need replacing.
The train gets me to work at 7:25, and I'm 25 minutes late. Luckily my workmate Jon has already unlocked and started setting up, so it's just my job to get the coffee on. From then on it proceeds as usual.
Jon's girlfriend Kay hands me my usual turkish raisin toast with loads of butter and strawberry jam, and I make them their usual lattes, we stand around reading the paper and talking until customers start to waddle in. I man the espresso bar, Jon cooks the food. We have a nice little rhythm. Our coffee shop is set up just so, I know 90% of the customers' names and how they take their coffee, they drop whatever money they like into the little money dish we have on top of the machine. I love first thing in the morning, there's usually very few sounds except for "Hey Darren." (Darren from NewsCorp, lives in Balmain, doesn't have a girlfriend, takes a large soy latte with no sugar.) "Hey Ally." *clink of money* *foosh and rumble of espresso machine* "Thanks Darren." "See you later."
Phil, our boss, turns up at about 8:30 and we work the machine together, making a couple of hundred coffees (not at all an exaggeration) till 10:30, when I have my break and customers actually start getting to work. I call a couple of real estate agents and text message my boy whilst I drink a coke and eat a chicken wrap.
The day passes slowly and lazily until we have a lunch rush (I wait tables) and then I sign off at 2. The city is mine.
Today, since my internet is still down at home, I go to an internet booth at a convenience store around the corner and print out bunches of real estate details and maps so that I can check out the locations and things before my inspections on Saturday. I walk to one that is in the same neighbourhood, and pretty much fall in love with the street, it is quiet and tree lined and cosy. Hopefully the apartment is nice inside and also I am approved for it, because I feel it would be pretty perfect (also save me a bucketload on public transport!) but it is a pretty popular neighbourhood and the apartment is pretty cheap so I don't know.
I wander back into the city and jump on the first bus I see that is headed towards the next suburb I want to check out. It goes through places I never heard of, but they all look lovely and exciting and I consider checking out if there are any apartments going there if I don't end up getting anything from this weekend. I don't recognise any of the street names when I am told to get off the bus at the last stop. Turns out I'm in an entirely different part of the suburb, and the map that I thought I'd printed out actually only shows a centimetre or so at the top of the page, for some reason cut off.
I wander for about forty-five minutes, in circles, in the blazing sun, up and down hills full of nice terrace houses and happy children. My temper is foul. I am hot and exhausted and hungry and why can't I find this street already? I asked for directions at a petrol station and the man got a map and sent me in the 'right' direction, but when I got there the street I want seemed to be a park instead. I cross the road to catch a bus back to the city, defeated, and find my street. Right there. I check out the apartment building and it is pretty awful. I won't come back to this one on the weekend. I guess that's saved me another trip.
I jump on the first bus to city. I want to buy some more supportive shoes for work (since the knock-off black cons I wear are coffee stained and falling apart), and Jon told me that there's a place in Centrepoint that has a sale. The bus crawls through the city in peak hour. I make it to centrepoint at last and get lost in the gargantuan maze of levels and escalators. I find out one thing. This part of the mall is closing for renovations, so everyone that is still open are having throw-out sales with massive savings. I can't even find the shop I'm looking for. I give up and go and book myself an appointment for tomorrow at a really fancy expensive hair salon nearby.
I figure I deserve it.
I pop into a Coles as I try to find a busstop, pick up some ingredients to make pesto for dinner, and a big box of chocolate chip cookies. I eat the cookies on the bus home. So. Internet's not working. I can't hack it any longer. I call tech support (after a whole lot of confusion about which phone I should use and which computer, and the router's in this room and the phone's in another and this computer is wired and this is wireless, this is a mac and this a PC...) and end up talking to someone in India, we make it five minutes before somehow I become disconnected. It's okay, she had a pretty terrible temper anyway and we weren't getting along. My second lady is much nicer.
My internet finally connects.
My day is made.
I cook myself up my pesto (managing to get some in my eye as I looked into the blender a bit too soon) and eat it with pasta and a cold, cold beer at my desk. Oh, Internet. I missed you.
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Topic: I maintain that the usage of the word 'thread' in this title was acceptable (Read 4634 times)