It's a dark, dark day...
7am: My girlfriend’s alarm goes off. She gets up and gets ready for work. I tell myself I’m going to do the same. Being woken up early is a great excuse to leap out of bed and get cracking on my list of tasks for the day.
8am: Girlfriend leaves for work. I’m still in bed.
10am: Roll out of bed and head to the kitchen to get myself breakfast. I open the fridge and discover that someone has polished off the remains of my milk. I fling on my trackies and head to the shops. Walking past a local café, I hear an elderly lady finish a story with the words “and she died while they were having sex!” I purchase the milk and walk home. No more dilly-dallying. I am going to start work as soon as I get home.
11am: Sit on the couch pondering the logistics and ramifications of someone dying whilst having sex. Become suddenly and acutely aware of my own mortality.
12pm: Have a cry in the shower.
3pm: Go to the toilet. Already tense relationship with my girlfriend’s Jack Russell reaches near breaking point as he stands at the toilet door, barking viciously at me while I’m doing my business.
4pm: Run around Princes Park. I partake in my favourite game of sitting on a bench and waiting for fit, athletic dudes to run past me, at which point I spring up and overtake them. It makes me feel good about myself for at least five minutes, until I realise what a sad little man I am.
5pm: More crying in the shower.
6pm: Girlfriend arrives home from work. “Busy day?” she asks. “Flat out!” I reply.
7pm: Cook two-minute noodles for dinner. I’m an adult!