Greeting Sylvia
Well ain't life grand.
Saturday began as just a normal day in the life of Ning. I got up, bleary-eyed after roughly 5 hours sleep, at 8:30, realised how disgustingly late I was going to be for work, pulled on my uniform with my shirt inside out and ran out the door with the half-baked idea in mind that I would catch the 8:40 bus into Woden, allowing me enough time for coffee and breakfast. Fifteen minute later I found myself still sitting stupidly at the bus shelter when the realisation that it was Saturday, a public holiday, and there were no buses finally hit me.
Fan-diddly-astic, I thought, and rather than be late and risk my already tender hide with the David Jones Monster again, caught a taxi into work.
Swell.
Worked till 4:45, disheartened and mildly exhausted after dealing all day with the vultures that all women seem to turn into when there's a clothing sale on. Jules - bless you - picked me up and dropped me off in civic at 5, where I proceeded straight to the Asian Cafe and worked another joyous 7 hours with a false smile pasted across my face like a badly made paper mask.
Love retail? Hospitality's worse.
Realised stupidly - even more stupidly because it was the second time that day - that I had once again misread the bus times, and shamefacedly called Jules, who uncomplainingly came to pick me up once again. Drove home, struggled up the stairs half-starved with the beginnings of a cold, watched like the sorry git I was as Jules opened the door, walked in thinking only of all the wonderful food I was going to fry up when...
sniff.
"What's that smell?"
Now most people can recognise the scent of gas straight away. In my own defence, I was ill, tired, and only semi-conscious. All I can say is thank God Jules was there.
Turned out the gas stove had been left on for the entire day.
My first thought, after I'd cleared the living room in a single bound and turned the thing off, was to drive out to Woop Woop, creep into Alex's room, wake her up, and spend the next three or so hours abusing her at two hundred decibels.
My second thought, after I calmed down, was to call her, but one look at the clock assured me that her parents would probably not appreciate it.
So I waited until the next day, and it's a good thing I did, because as things turned out, it was in fact Theo, Alex's little genius brother, who had decided to turn our apartment into a suicide funland.
So the apartment has been empty, the windows open, for the past two days. I've been making camp at Chapman.
Ain't life grand.
