I woke up this morning to the sound of builders doing fuck all other than stamp their feet, hammer on bits of wood and drill needlessly. And shout at each other like apes. I swear that’s all they’re doing, it’s been a few days and it doesn’t look like much progress; I did however notice a large number of empty mugs and digestive biscuit packets. I can’t complain though, it was 1pm and I had overslept my alarm by two hours. And to round off my waking up nicely, I dropped my mobile phone on my face.
This set the tone for the day so far really. A nice puddle of cat sick outside my bedroom door, complete with a cat that looked astonished it had thrown up that much. Another epic battle with a moth in the bathroom. Looking in my chest of drawers and finding no clean boxers, going to the utility room and finding all my boxers soaking wet in the washing machine still, and then several minutes of struggling with the washing line which resulted in my saying several expletives and giving up.
Found clean pair of boxers (the uncomfortable ones that ride up and cut off the blood circulation to your crotch), my jogging bottoms, and my white T-shirt and set off for the gym. Except I didn’t, because I got snagged into a conversation with my elderly neighbour who, bless her socks, wanted to be stereotypically English and complain about the hot weather and the economy. ‘Conversation’ is also being kind, she refused to leave her doorway, I felt uncomfortable going into her garden, and she’s deaf as a post. So all she did was nod to what I said, and then talk about something completely different. Thankfully I was rescued by the builders I mentioned earlier, who’d clearly scoffed down their sandwiches and Bourbon biscuits and found their drills and hammers again.
I arrived at the gym, and straight away got involved in an argument with the bloke at the front desk who was adamant I should have received my membership card by now, and didn’t seem willing to believe me when I said I check my post more regularly than he does and had not yet received it.
The exercise itself was fine; in fact I was quite proud with my performance today. I completed twenty minutes on the cross-trainer and actually felt like I could have done more. This was followed by some rowing, followed by me trying not to laugh on the exercise bike at this woman on the treadmill who was nearly as elderly as my neighbour. Kudos to her though, she’s doing something to keep herself active rather than sitting alone in the house, knitting, and waiting for death. I also spilt my cup of water, and there is nothing more embarrassing than knocking over your drink in a public place, even though the only other person to witness it was grandma on the treadmill.
Left gym, full of happiness that I was noticing the benefits of my workouts, and stopped for quite a few moments to ogle an Aston Martin DBS parked in the car park. Who drives their Aston Martin to the gym? This is not a posh gym, and it’s a car park situated right between two schools and the housing estate where the children live. So this guy is either risking a scratched car, or he’s stupid (and lets face it, most rich people are) or he’s a paedophile.
Sadly I then had to step back into my beloved Vauxhall Astra, which being a black car, had a similar interior temperature of that found in the manufacture of glass. I started the engine, and yet AGAIN it sounded like the worlds most unrefined diesel engine. I shouted in anger and put my head against the steering wheel in frustration, although clearly a combination of exercise and baking heat had affected my spatial-awareness and I nearly knocked myself out. I then had to drive home, through town, with all the shoppers out and about and the children walking home from school, with my car sounding like a Ford Transit. Please feel free to feel sorry for me and offer cuddles.
So yeah, now here I am. I’m meant to be sanding down the door and skirting boards, and giving them a lick of paint. However after today’s events I don’t think I dare risk it.
And I cant be arsed!
