I wake at 9:15. I look at the phone to verify the time. Then I mutter to Turpin that she "doesn't know how to set an alarm." She didn't set any extra snooze times.
So, I do. I set an alarm to go off 11 minutes later, and another to go off 22 minutes later.
It's 9:37. I have to shower and collect all of my laundry, personal effects, and the rented movie. I have to return the secret key to Uncle Bill (in case he needs it). I have to at least make an effort to straighten the house. I have to do all of this in 24 minutes.
I lay about and talk to Turpin because the amount of time that I have in order to get all of this done has not yet sunken in. This is a serious problem with me; not cluing in to time constraints that are very much in place.
Turpin becomes aware of what time it is, and she suggests that I get moving. I now have about 13 minutes to accomplish all above-listed items.
I brew coffee.
I quickly shower. I run about the house, grabbing various things that I have written on a list. Turpin is adding things to the list whenever I happen to set it down.
I hurriedly tell her that she has to return the keys to Uncle Bill, and she has to return the video to the video store, and it would great if she could clean the house a little. Turpin is not a team player. Though she does volunteer to bring the movie back. Turpin leaves when I do, donned in a childhood jacket I wore to my first communion. Mom will never let her keep this jacket.
I rush off to Uncle Bill's while I eat the three remaining timbits from our pack of twenty that was purchased the night prior.
I toss the keys onto a counter and shout things about having to go. They have known me all of my life, Uncle Bill and Aunt Pat. They are not surpsrised. Uncle Bill shouts out the door that I should drive carefully.
I'm averaging a speed of about 130 km/h. I have about 40 minutes to get to St. John's before my shift starts. I believe that I can make it.
As long as I do not run out of gas, which was something that I meant to purchase the night prior, but I inevitably forgot, in lieu of Timbits.
I had just put $5 worth of gas in the car on the way to Uncle Bill's, as that was the maximum amount of cash I could spend while still having the necessary $7.60 needed to park my car for the day's shift.
But that was perhaps not enough, as the needle is flirting with the red area of the fuel gauge as I hastily make my way towards the highway.
It's flawless. I arrive on Water Street with a few whiffs of remaining gas, and park in my usual spot. I need no money for the lot as it is Sunday, and parking is free. The money could've gone into the gas tank, as it turns out.
I rush into the restaurant and quickly get changed into my cook garb. I go upstairs, and everyone starts asking me why I'm there. I do not have to work until 6pm that evening.
I will never be married to a woman.
So, I do. I set an alarm to go off 11 minutes later, and another to go off 22 minutes later.
It's 9:37. I have to shower and collect all of my laundry, personal effects, and the rented movie. I have to return the secret key to Uncle Bill (in case he needs it). I have to at least make an effort to straighten the house. I have to do all of this in 24 minutes.
I lay about and talk to Turpin because the amount of time that I have in order to get all of this done has not yet sunken in. This is a serious problem with me; not cluing in to time constraints that are very much in place.
Turpin becomes aware of what time it is, and she suggests that I get moving. I now have about 13 minutes to accomplish all above-listed items.
I brew coffee.
I quickly shower. I run about the house, grabbing various things that I have written on a list. Turpin is adding things to the list whenever I happen to set it down.
I hurriedly tell her that she has to return the keys to Uncle Bill, and she has to return the video to the video store, and it would great if she could clean the house a little. Turpin is not a team player. Though she does volunteer to bring the movie back. Turpin leaves when I do, donned in a childhood jacket I wore to my first communion. Mom will never let her keep this jacket.
I rush off to Uncle Bill's while I eat the three remaining timbits from our pack of twenty that was purchased the night prior.I toss the keys onto a counter and shout things about having to go. They have known me all of my life, Uncle Bill and Aunt Pat. They are not surpsrised. Uncle Bill shouts out the door that I should drive carefully.
I'm averaging a speed of about 130 km/h. I have about 40 minutes to get to St. John's before my shift starts. I believe that I can make it.
As long as I do not run out of gas, which was something that I meant to purchase the night prior, but I inevitably forgot, in lieu of Timbits.
I had just put $5 worth of gas in the car on the way to Uncle Bill's, as that was the maximum amount of cash I could spend while still having the necessary $7.60 needed to park my car for the day's shift.
But that was perhaps not enough, as the needle is flirting with the red area of the fuel gauge as I hastily make my way towards the highway.
It's flawless. I arrive on Water Street with a few whiffs of remaining gas, and park in my usual spot. I need no money for the lot as it is Sunday, and parking is free. The money could've gone into the gas tank, as it turns out.
I rush into the restaurant and quickly get changed into my cook garb. I go upstairs, and everyone starts asking me why I'm there. I do not have to work until 6pm that evening.
I will never be married to a woman.
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