Monday, Monday

Monday in the office. Normally I’m in by 8.30, sometimes 8.15, but today I was a little later than that. It was not that I was sleepy or had a reluctance to begin the working week that had me linger in bed. It was just so nice. I was closer to awake than asleep, but I just felt so comfy that I stayed put longer than I should. In the end, it was Rigby, impatient for breakfast, who got me up.

It’s the same old world in at work, the Monday variation of it. People are slower to start perhaps needing to get back into the groove. The conversation harks back to the events of the weekend and the latest footy scores. The weekend emails are viewed and put aside. Last week’s work is opened and the thread gradually picked up. Coffee is pre-eminent – as it is most days – the fuel necessary to get the week going.

Amid all this is H. I gaze around, seeing without really looking. On one screen Outlook is open; on the other a multi-coloured spreadsheet. There are people I need to meet, issues to follow up on, emails to send.

I walked into work the usual way, along the usual route. I listened to one of my audiobooks – this one of The Great Gatsby – while I walked down the customary road. After not seeing her at all for a year I’ve bumped into Paige perhaps 7 times in the last couple of months, her head turned from me and looking like a brooding, closed off Neve Campbell. I am later today and so miss her. I pass the primary school on the corner across from work. By now it is nearing school time and the street busy with traffic and the footpath with small children in their uniforms and the odd parent proudly escorting young ones. To my surprise, I see the CEO of my footy club with his kids, and nearly say something to him with that familiarity that comes in seeing public figures unexpectedly in the flesh.

Now the heating hums in the background, a sound you don’t hear until you listen for it, or when it jolts on. The conversation now is of work, some small dramas to work through. I guess I have my own to handle too. Another sip of coffee and into it.

Say your piece...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.