It is about 7.40PM and I have just missed the cup I am trying to put sugar in by a couple of inches. I then take the egg I have fried out of the frying pan and come within a second of spraying it with low calorie frying spray – when my intention was to put ketchup on it. I have been awake about fifteen hours.
I am reminded of that bit in An Officer And A Gentleman where the trainees have to do simple tasks in a decompression chamber and Sid can’t take it. I worry that maybe I am too am being tricked by a whore into thinkings she is pregnant. Perhaps I will hang myself naked so Richard Gere can find me just too late and straddle my dead, naked corpse.
I don’t really think all of this. I just remember that scene from the film and get the Dust Buster™ and tidy away the spilled sugar. I haven’t been in a decompression chamber. I have just been up since 4.45AM after only a few hours sleep. The reason was a conference in that London. I didn’t really get much out of it – it seems a worthwhile way to spend 14 hours of my life (including travel). I don’t even have the opportunity to do work on the train as planned: small talk with a colleague doesn’t let up, despite some effort on one side to let (it up).
When I finally get out of the conversation and get into a taxi I am too tired to ask the driver why there is .40 of extras automatically added when I get in the taxi. I am not that fat and just carrying a rucksack. And despite the multiple personalities in my head I only inhabit the body of one human. It bug me just enough to really want to know why it’s OK to add 40p of extras but not quite enough for me to ask why.
After the debacle with the sugar and near catastrophe with the eggs I resolve than an early night is in order. Despite doing nothing and having no just cause it is after midnight when I go to bed, light-headed with tiredness. It takes me a good 20 minutes to fall asleep. What was that 40p all about?