Rolling over.
Waking up.
It is light. Too light.
My phone says 7.55. How did that happen? I must have turned off the alarm but I’m sure I don’t remember. I can just about make it to work, but with my daily plans ruined – I will arrive unwashed, unshaven, unprepared, short on socks… will need to go back to the house. Fuck.
Grab a McDonald’s breakfast (very sorry), lots of sugar in the coffee. There is an old woman at the counter, she is very slow and overcharges me.
Then on to the office. The receptionist is caught napping, is embarrassed, then shy.
“Mr Broz please”
“Yes, take a seat”
On the phone I can see something is wrong from the look on her face, and my suspicions are confirmed when the education manager walks towards me. The 5th cancellation in a row. I pretend to care because they are apologising sincerely. Back home then, no time to lose.
Wake up, work, wake up.

Postscript. I was going to write an article about what I think of Michael Moore but Andrew Anthony has done it a whole lot better than I ever could. Something that needed to be said, though obviously he’s still on the right side. Generally.

Postscript 2: This fucker (the one on the left) is paying a surprise visit in a week. Mayhem?

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5 Responses to

  1. poranila_se says:

    wake up. work. wake up. work. wake up. work. wake up. work. wake up. work. wake up. day off. wake up
    doesn’t it just make you want to punch someone in the head? like, in my case, perhaps myself?

  2. was that during summer 2001 reading period or do they always do that kind of thing?
    isn’t dennis married?

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