October, 2009

Sometimes some days are just good for a rant. Of sorts.

I cycled in today, slowly. My back, legs, and arms are still aching from a marathon badminton session yesterday during which adrenalin got the better of common sense. I arrived home sweating like a pig, cold, and super knackered. I slept through most of ‘John Tucker Must Die’. Some say that’s a plus, really, but I honestly need to get out of my ‘bed at 9.30′ mode. I am not that old. I am not. I am. Not.

Mindful that clocks had gone forward, my 10.30am stroll into the office was effectively a 11.30am start , which is good in an office environment that measures you on delivery of results, and not how many hours you keep. Aching, screaming muscles dictated that I took the bus in; of course this is not possible given that Mondays are First Bus strike days, and so the options were: call a cab, walk or cycle. I am not that old, I told myself again, and therefore I will never resort to calling a cab until my zimmer frame replaces my bike.

So I rode in.

Slowly.

Painfully each stroke of the pedal told me I should really be ‘working’ at home today. But I also learnt that riding slowly, at speeds of 16km/h, will get me to work just as well as riding at 23km/h. Not every ride is an attempt to beat a personal best. But the adrenalin that comes with such an attempt would get me worked up enough to start the day sans coffee. I gladly used a latte machiatto as a substitute. I have no idea what latte machiato is, and how it differs from other lattes; or even how lattes differ from what a capuccino is. If it ain’t got mocha in the name, it ain’t got coklit in it, is as much as I know. But latte machiatto was just the button on the coffee machine that my fingers were closest to. I could not reach high enough to press capuccino today.

Putting a white frame around something doesn’t make it Polaroid. Just like life.

My mind is wandering. I have a list of to-dos which I can’t be arsed to deal with, because I want to know what alternative film options are for my Polaroid camera. I feel arty today. I want to go around and snap autumn in its colourful glory on my crappy polaroid with its outdated film. Of course this will not happen because I am enough of a workaholic to see to every item on my to-do list to its end, with the promise that joyful ventures like researching alternative polaroid films can take place after 5pm. Except I don’t get home until 7pm because I am seeing to that to-do list. And by then I’d be so tired that polaroid picture research gets shelved. Like the latest Cycling Plus magazine. And them two issues of Wired. And Paul Theroux’s Ghost Train to the Eastern Star. And a million other things that make up the ‘life’ bit of this whole work-life balance. At least I’ve read the weekend paper.

I waded into a political battle at work today. Yet another person in the firing line, is me. I hope my helmet is bulletproof. Because they ran out of jackets today, and I’m hoping snipers aim up top.