On Friday I wake up unseasonably early and do all of the things that I need to do for the day. Then I do some more, and pretty soon I’ve got no things left to do at all.
The solution to this problem is to find something non-work related to occupy my time, and this proves problematic because all the non-work things I want to do involve expenditure of time and effort far beyond my quota for the day. I pop down to the supermarket and buy some potatoes (my new signature dish is potatoes,) but after this I’m once again left with nothing to occupy my fragile mind.
After an enthralling half hour of playing Cities XL, I decide that I need to do something more inspiring and life-affirming, so I increase my initiative level and plan myself a trip out.
The Friday night had been scheduled as a geek date starring Tatey, Owen and myself. It was amusingly organised to take place at Tate’s place, without any input from him at all. He suggested the initial idea, but sort of dropped out of the conversation for the next three days so it was only on the Thursday afternoon that he finally found out he had guests.
After having a somewhat sparse lunch, I decide I’m going to head down south early, and do some OpenStreetMapping before heading to Tate’s place. This is a terrible idea because it’s somewhere in the realm of one hundred degrees celsius outside, but nevertheless I power along in my plan and within twenty minutes I’m on the train.
Perhaps due to my terrible planning, the train is packed full of fat and smelly schoolchildren. Their presence mingles with everything. The smell eeks its way into my clothes, and I have to wade through the squabble of unwashed students to find a seat; right under the cooling vent.
I don’t mind public transportation in Brisbane, but this is probably the precise combination of things I hate the most. The all-pervading stench, the limber limbs lolling in my face, the schoolyard taunts of “fag” and “nol, you are” complemented with the crisp arctic fingers of the overhead air conditioner pressing into my soul.
I shiver all the way to Roma Street, and curse whichever stupid prat specified the air conditioning should be this cold year round.
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