My stomach tossed and turned. It knew the day was early but it clearly was uncomfortable, maybe even bored. So it decided to wake me up.
I glanced at the clock. 6:30.
Who the hell gets up voluntarily on a Monday morning at that awful time?
Evidently I do.
I ignored my stomach and rolled over. Stomach protested. Loudly.
Sometimes it’s good to be a bachelor, what with all of that irritating rumbling going on. This way I only annoy me.
Looked at the clock. 6:31. Closed my eyes.
Brain woke up and started rummaging around in my head, knocking shit over and just generally being loud. “Hey! It’s a new day!”
I thought back. “Fuck off, brain”
It persisted. “But you can do so much now. Don’t have to be to work until 9:00 so what can you do in the meantime?”
I thought “sleep”
“No no no. You’ve got a few hours. HEY!!” it shouted.
I opened one eye.
“What if you get your washing done?”
“What if I just shoot myself. In the head.”
“No seriously. It’s Monday so you know NO ONE is going to be in the laundry room. You’ll have all of those washers and dryers to yourself.”
I rolled onto my back. Brain had a point.
It was useless to try and get back to sleep. Stomach and brain were both pushing and prodding at me so I got up, got my shit together and went down to the laundry room.
Having loaded the laundry, I was waiting outside the elevator to go back to my apartment when I heard a screeching sound, like metal banging on metal. Loud.
And smelly, I realized shortly after the noise started. I figured it out. The garbage bin people were here, hauling out all the vomit-inducing detritus of the apartment-dwellers’ stinky cast-offs.
Then the elevator door opened and I eagerly stepped forward to escape the stench.
Only, there was a rather large woman with a massive red beehive coming off, so I stepped back.
Good thing. Her smell hit me harder than the garbage truck.
She tottered on her stiletto heels out to the parking lot, overly large designer shades just sitting there precariously on her face.
I thought to myself “Lady. Spend some money. Leave the Kmart bargain bins alone when you’re buying scent.”
I’m not stupid. I didn’t say any of this aloud. She had enormous fists and I have a delicate face.
And an even more delicate nose.
I’m just glad I didn’t have to work in the same office as her. I could feel the headache coming on, just from those few moments of exposure. The aura of “L’Eau de Backed Up Toilet” competed heavily with the garbage truck outside. The perfume laughed in derision, pummeling the garbage truck odour into a quick submission, and finishing it with a round-house kick, right to the gonads.
The garbage truck was down. And the people in the stands trampled each other as they left the stadium in panic. Perfume glared around, just daring anyone else to challenge it.
Fortunately for me, just then, the elevator doors closed.