I’m so glad it’s Monday. I never say that.
After a monumental week of essay writing I had many things planned for this past weekend. I was going to enjoy the company of some old friends at their daughter’s first birthday party, then go to a rally against live export, then see some of the Art & About exhibition and then stay in the mountains for the night with a dear friend. None of these things would come to pass.
The party was cancelled because the little girl had been sick. ‘No problem’ I thought, ‘I’ll just have a slow morning and then go to the rally’. I picked up my umbrella and headed for the bus to go into the city for the rally, but I had underestimated the extent to which the buses would be late because of the rain. It finally came, and I made it – just in time for the end of the rally. Then it came to light that I had misunderstood that my friend and I were going to Art & About, so I jumped on the bus and came back to Newtown.
I threw some things in a bag to head up to the mountains. Feeling slightly hungry I popped a piece of toast in the toaster, thinking that I would eat it on the run. I walked away. A few minutes later I smelled burning toast. Going to the kitchen, sure enough the toast was burnt. And then the smoke alarm went off. Because I live in a residential college, the building is connected to the Fire Station – the whole building had to be evacuated and the firemen come. So there we were, 30 women standing on the street at 2.30pm on a Saturday afternoon. Two fire engines pull up, all for one little piece of burnt toast. I had to fess up and show the firemen to the scene of the incident. They checked it and turned the alarm off, and then proceeded to suggest to me that I might like to turn the toaster down. Like I’ve never used a toaster before.
I didn’t end up going to the mountains.
Sunday was better, until I went to return some DVD’s and tripped on the kerb and stacked it. And I mean stacked it. I was down, lying face down on the ground. No one came to help. In fact, I think they turned away (maybe a kind sentiment designed to reduce the embarrassment or a replica of The Good Samaritan without the Samaritan). Either way, I grazed my hand and hurt the muscles in my right arm.
This weekend will never happen again.
Like I said, I’m glad it’s Monday.