Pros and Cons

Garfield hates Mondays because something bad always happens then. (It does; for the last 30 or so years, Monday has consistently brought him bad luck, ranging from falling grand pianos to flying cream pies.) My pet hate day just happens to be--today. Wednesday. It's probably got something to do, of course, with the fact that my off day is Tuesday and therefore Wednesday is my first day of work. And then there's my innate laziness, hence my e-mail address. So when Tuesday is over and it's Wednesday morning, I get hit by lethargy. Which, in turn, leads to me delaying going to work until the last possible minute, which causes me to panic and hurry to work when I finally convince myself that work is absolutely necessary if I am ever to be possessed of money. This then makes me stride at an accelerated pace to work, and by the time of arrival I am drenched in sweat from walking and worrying. And then, of course, there's the usual hustle and bustle to prepare for beginning business, during which I find that the past 24 hours of relaxation have created an effect of temporary amnesia and I have completely lost the knack of working at a mart. Upon which I become all thumbs and butter fingers, start worrying some more, and then end up making some huge mistake right in front of the Manager. Henceforth he will be called Feline, on account of his mouth; his mouth reminds me, for some reason, of a cat who has just spotted a mouse half-drowned in a bowl of cream and salmon. I shall try to render a description: the upper lip is a slight curve, like a very strained smile; the lower lip is a very sharp v, located at the centre of the upper lip. The corners of the mouth are apparently closed, and when he speaks, the lower lip moves up and down. His mouth never seems to widen or narrow; it just stays the same, merely taller (so to speak) or shorter. But so far I've managed to avoid all major mistakes; no more horrible smashes, like before. And I've made a few friends among the employees, and one online. So life ins't too bad at present. Also I've met several past teachers, all of whom remembered me; and one or two others, whom I did not remember but rememebered me. It's quite an experience, having someone talk to you like they always knew you, while frantically wondering what their name is and where you could possibly have met. And then my friends are now meeting each other, apparently completely by chance encounter: Kelvin has met one of the people from my church in his class. I know because he asked me about the guy, and because he got the name wrong--and blamed me for it. Life can be very unfair sometimes. Well, I have the comfort of knowing that I'm now rid of his souvenir--3 Chinese coins--and now have one less thing to keep track of. And then I've met Way. That's my chosen designation for the guy I mentioned a few posts ago as having had a poem published in the paper. (I'm so jealous, but then not everyone has the money to buy an unending supply of stamps.) He's a lot less depressed in person than in his blog; quite interesting; but he never craps. Yes, I see that as a negative point. I'm a habitual crapper, but every time I do that on him, he sends back a 'haha' or an 'lol'. I sometimes wish he'd do a little crapping of his own, but then one mustn't complain too much about new acquiantances. After all, everybody takes some getting used to. I daresay he finds me too inclined to waste time with irrelevancies or frivolous small talk. I spent yesterday with Wolf at his house. We plan to go swimming next Tuesday, owing largely to the fact that whenever I visit him, we end up watching DVDs that Wolf has seen a million times (heck, I wish I'd that much time to watch the few VCDs I have) . He suggested a change of plan for next week; we'll be swimming with Age Ho. Anyone whose schedule permits it, and is interested, is welcome to join us; apart from Wolf and Age Ho, I haven't seen any of my old classmates for ages. On the other hand, I've seen loads of my younger siblings' classmates. I go to my old school every evening to walk my kid sister home; it is difficult to describe the pandemonium that breaks out when the primary school beside the high school and the high school beside the primary school let out simultaneously. Walking at all after 9 hours of standing or walking is bad enough; wading through a sea of little mites (I got the term from the charitable classmate) who barely come up to my hip is worse. And probably the worst experience is to find a Form 2 student--who is taller than I am!! Now of course I don't pride myself on my height--I am barely average height--but it is very unsettling nonetheless to find yourself overshadowed by someone 4 years your junior. In fact as far as I'm concerned, my height is at present more of a liability than an asset. As the tallest Sales Assistant in the mart, I am naturally selected for all tasks requiring height: cleaning spiderwebs off the ceiling and lights; pulling down carton after carton of beer from the tallest stack (each carton weighs about 2 kilos and is usually located about 7 feet from the floor, and will dent at best or burst at worst if dropped); or just holding candy out of the reach of a marauding 5-year-old. (The cashiers, being female and local, are about the height of a marauding 5-year-old.) But enough bitching. I know I should be so grateful for my situation; at least I get paid for my work. Not so Wolf; his charity job comes without any hint of cash reward. And at least I do occasionally receive tips from good customers (the record so far is 5 bucks). And I do get the pleasure of an occasional chance encounter with an old friend. And I am grateful. I just wish there was more to be grateful about!