And this is a Monday when I don’t wake up because I never went to bed, and this Monday I play the role of young male who came back from clubbing and is spending the whole day watching TV. This must be quite a small part because there is no script, I’m not given any lines, in fact the only dialogue I get is around 2000 when my neighbour shows up outside my window and waves at me about some post that got delivered by mistake to her flat.
So I go outside to collect it and the two baguettes of garlic bread / four chocolate muffins / two chocolate milkshakes I’ve consumed during the day must be affecting my judgement, because I forget to take my keys with me and the door shuts behind me.
I’m not that disappointed by this because at least the sun has gone down and I’m not in immediate danger of getting a tan or anything by being outdoors, plus I like it when things go wrong, I do it to myself, I do, and that’s why it really hurts.
The other person who has keys to my flat is Scott, so I use the neighbour’s phone to call him and ask him to come over and then spend the next 45 minutes standing outside my front window waiting…
…watching the back of the TV and trying to listen to the sound of the six episodes of Frasier I started playing back to back before coming out...
…reading the satellite TV magazine that came through the post (yes, this is was the mis-delivered post) which I suppose is a good thing because I never give this magazine a chance, I put it straight in the bin, but on this Monday evening stuck outside my house I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy the: Sarah Jessica Parker interview / quiz assessing whether I’m psychic (I’m not) / update on what’s going on in the lives of the stars of 1990s TV show Gladiators
Then Scott comes he lets me in, then I take two Zimovane – why the fuck not – and then I go to bed.
On Tuesday it’s horrendously sunny and warm and I would love to stay in at lunchtime to avoid the sun, but I must go out, I must go out to buy a chicken wrap.
As I leave work I walk past a leisure centre nearby, outside where I see an older man in a business suit lying face down on the ground, not at all moving, purple in the face, blue lips and his tongue half hanging out and some people are gathered around him, people playing the parts of concerned individuals showing an interest in their fellow man who’s in trouble and these people are calling an ambulance.
My thoughts in order:
1) His suit must be fucked now.
2) That must have been a good workout.
3) Workout. Isn’t the Pale Personal Trainer in my gym fit? Maybe I should have a wank.
On my way back to the office I walk past the same place and the guy is still on the floor but this time there are two paramedics around him and he’s wearing an oxygen mask, which is a look that I could carry off a lot better, a look I should perhaps try out very soon.