Black
When he turned up next to me at the traffic lights, without thinking, I asked him how his weekend was, completely forgetting that it was already Wednesday.
Of course it was Wednesday. All the wheelie bins and the black plastic recycling boxes, of which none were intact, covered the pavements because the garbage truck comes down this road on Wednesdays, and the walk to work becomes an obstacle course.
He must have thought me strange, because his reply was about coming weekend plans rather than the weekend just gone by.
The next question out of my bag-o-small-talk was more effective; I asked him if he got up early to watch the soccer qualifier the other morning. And so he happily chatted to me all the way to the office about how it'll be another four years before we get the chance, current issues plaguing our team, and so forth. I hardly had to say a word.
Another grey morning. I'm tired of grey mornings. Grey mornings make me feel lifeless, even more so than I already am. It's not hard to feel lacklustre when you wake up at 5 a.m. in the morning without knowing why, when the only way that you know you must have slept is the very fact that you woke.
I think it might have been Georgina who told the story about having company staff meetings where you can tell who the designers are because they are the ones dressed in black. Somehow, I ended up being dressed in all black today: black t-shirt, black jumper, black jeans, black socks, black shoes, black scarf, and my charcoal jacket, which might as well be black. Not sure I qualify strictly as a designer though, but at least I was colour-coordinated.
I seem to tend towards dark colours for a wardrobe, with the exception of white or the occasional cream. A sobering moment some months ago when I had to attend a funeral and I realised that I didn't actually have to wear anything different from my usual attire for the occasion. Oddly enough too, the current spring fashion colours in Melbourne seems to be black and white. If I'm not careful, I might even be fashionable.
The day passed. A good, productive meeting in the afternoon meant it was the first time I'd actually felt good about work in weeks. More work for me, but I won my battles. Woo.
The sun was out on the way home. It was hard to imagine that summer is literally just around the corner because it certainly didn't feel that way. There was a pervading chill in the wind. The shadows were the wrong shade, the wrong length, the wrong angle.
I had a song in my head, the same one as it has been for days. Playing in the back of my mind of its own accord, drowning out the aching silence.
[Corresponding dandruff flake][Comment?]
28 November 2001, Wednesday, 9:44 PM
Alter ego of dandruff
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