Yes, I know, people usually hurl themselves DOWN flights of stairs, but this morning I saw a necessity to do things the other way for a change. Why? Well, to be honest, I have no idea.
I had a good night yesterday, which started off as looking like it was going to be a bad night. It all started when Housemate let me know she wasn’t feeling like going into town to catch the Sneak Preview, a standard staple for our working week. This annoyed me, as usually when she doesn’t feel like doing something she usually IS feeling like vegging out behind her computer for a night. This I usually don’t mind, but yesterday I wanted to do something.
No worries, a quick phone call later taught me she was mostly not looking forward to being home late and the chance of catching a bad movie, which is fair enough for me, and as I still owed her a dinner, it was easy to convince her to help me fill my evening. So off we went, biking through the rain, the diminutive women Housemate is nestled in the back of my coat to protect herself from the watery onslaught, on our way to a restaurant we had tried once before and liked.
About 5 minutes later, soaking wet and cold, not too mention miserable but somehow in a good mood, we stood in front of a closed restaurant. Not fun. Not to be disparaged, we adjourned to the restaurant across the street, as we had walked past it a few times before but not too good word of mouth had kept us from trying it out. Now, rain and coldness kept us from doing anything but try it out.
And a nicer forceful rain there has never been. Despite the incredible and tip-destroying gruffness of the staff, the dinner was excellent. On the mid-to-high side, cost-wise, but really very good. The entrees on their own consisted of a reasonable plateful of carpaccio for housemate, which despite being presented with all the charm and grace of a mud-flap still very much fulfilled her wishes, and my dove’s breast and pasta was a great way to start a meal as well.
Main course was a beautiful plate of deer for HM, and wild boar for myself, and really, pigs have something to learn from their wild counterparts. Finishing with French toast for housemate and vanilla ice cream profiterole for myself, we ended the meal well and truly stuffed, but pleased.
A few games of pool and a skype call with boyfriend deposited me in bed at around half twelve, very happy, and prepared to get up early this morning as the public transport was going to go on strike at 9 o’clock and I needed to be at work before that.
And I might as well say, I failed. Miserably. And wetly.
First off I slept right through my freaking alarm clocks. Yes… Multiple. No part measures for me, only the best is good enough, I go the distance. Only this morning, I did not go the distance. I did not even get started, actually.
So I woke up at the last possible moment to perhaps get the last possible bus, which would maybe deposit me at the transfer point at the last chance to get the last tram with a bit of luck.
Now the amounts of lasts and perhapses here should tip you off to the fact the undertaking did not instil me with a lot of confidence, and I did not look forward to the travelling to work today.
The bus was mercifully on time, even early, and the first leg of my travel was actually remarkably smooth. The fun started when I arrived at the place where I was supposed to catch the tram for the last bit of the journey. Now these trams roughly follow the route of an elevated highway at this point, and as a result I need to walk up a flight of stairs to get to the platform. These platforms are around second floor level, and the stairs are divided in three parts.
Anyways, I get out of the bus, and I hear my tram getting alongside the platform, so some speed is of the issue. Normally I would not run for a tram, but as there was a good chance it was going to be the last one to go for the next seven hours, I figured I should change my usual modus operandi a tad.
And thus, I hurled. I basically tried to sprint up the stairs, but it mainly consisted of me throwing myself up for two steps and being buffeted by people coming down them, putting me back a step. After doing some salmon jumps and throwing some people off the stairs, I arrived upside just in time get shoulderthumped by a big and annoying gentleman, and this thwarting served it’s purpose in a magnificent way, for I could here the tell tale sound of closing doors before I had recovered from his impact.
Missed the freaking tram. But I continue in the knowledge I left a smear of water, half rinsed shampoo and some of my blood on his clothing, so I have some vengeance there.
I was very happy to see that the next one was on the little board already, but I had no idea whether it was going to show, strike and all. But there was at this point nothing I could do other than getting rained upon, as there was also no bus going back home. Had no tram arrived, I’d have been stranded.
Luckily, it showed, near empty, but it was there. I took my seat, considered the fact that it was a few minutes to nine, and that it could possibly only take me a few stops closer to work before refusing to go all the way. So I stressed. And I stressed every time it approached a station, as it could be the last.
But, well, anticlimactic life intervened once more, and the tram pondered it’s way all the way to my stop, and I arrived at work. Late, but there.
And wet.
Really truly fucking dripping WET. It’s raining over here. And I got wet. I got wet on the day the entire European sales team is in my office for a meeting, and I come in looking like a fucking Kelpie victim. An annoyed Kelpie victim at that. Allthough, to be fair, after mounting a very nice horse, being unable to get off it, and being dragged by it into a watery grave would possibly piss me off a bit more than actually being rained upon, but not MUCH more, is all I am saying.
Anyways, back to work, I needed to vent for a second.
Stripes at 10110, from now on meaning “I envy Kelpie victims, they don’t have to meet new people”
Kevin.
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