On Friday evening, I was enjoying a leisurely ride home on the train whilst reading the eighth book in the Tales of the City series by Armistead Maupin. As it was a pleasant, sunny day and there was the notion of a weekend beginning, the atmosphere on the train was generally peaceful and relaxed… until South Yarra station.
Two lads in their early twenties stumbled through the doors in their singlets and shorts. One was holding the door open while he finished off his cigarette and the other staggered heavily toward my seat. They were both boisterous but unthreatening and obviously high on something more than tartrazine.
As the train left the station, one of them made a call to a housemate or lover;
"Hi, we're on our way, but we're getting off at Balaclava to get a fix, then we’ll head home…"
Great, I thought, my stop and they're doing a 'deal'. Lovely stuff.
They then headed further down the carriage for no discernable reason – maybe they'd spotted a leprechaun riding a unicorn side-saddle or something.
Then I spotted one of the lads' phones! He'd left it on his seat (this'll happen when you're off your face, kids!)
My first reaction was 'I ought to chase after them and give it back'.
My second reaction was 'Or maybe I should not and let them stress about it. Maybe they need it to aid their drug deal! Maybe Mr Thug, "Balaclava drug lord", will be angry with them for not having a phone (don’t know why) and he’ll punish them by pouring concrete into their underpants or something.'
However, I jumped off the train at Balaclava and raced up to the delirious fools and handed them the phone.
"Dude! Thanks! Woah!" etc.
I didn’t stick around for any superfluous gratitude as they both smelt a bit.
Ah, my good deed done for the day… I think.
The thing is, they seemed genuinely decent, happy blokes. And kudos to them! I know I sound very upper-middle-class when I berate the drug-induced and I expect it's partly due to my lack of experience in such matters; but there is this part of me which is inherently snobbish about it all. Utterly appalling, I know, but that's me for you. I won't ever try to hide the facts of my nature. La de da.
In other news, I am now onto Day 68 of my 100-day Challenge and it's gone right out the friggin' window.
Do I really believe being skinnier will make me happier? FOOD makes me happy! I love a bit of cake now and again. I love a bacon sandwich. I love sausages. I love toast and marmalade.
However, when I was 76kg (for a whole 2 days) I felt elated and rather giddy (maybe I was delirious from hunger!)
DAMN IT ALL.
Also, it has been ten days since Eric moved in and it's going OK. It is hard for me to get into the 'house-mate' mode after being a loner for eight years, but I think I'm getting there. I do tend to retreat to my room to watch DVDs... but that's nothing I didn't do before.
What I am worried about is Eric discovering that I am much, much duller than he might have reckoned before.
And finally, it is a mere FIVE WEEKS until I fly off to the UK for another delightful holiday. I cannot wait (but I'll have to, obviously.)