April 17, 2005

I finally got some sleep and I feel like an entirely different creature. Instead of staggering haggardly around with eyes like boiled eggs and a pessimistic attitude, I’m springing around gleefully. I may even do the housework today - last week, the sight of the dirty kitchen and cat fur tumbleweeds only induced in me the notion of arson so this is an improvement indeed.

Today I feel lucky to be alive - I’ve got a huge Timmy’s double double and it’s a gorgeous morning (it’s around 7:30 a.m.)

I’ve been trying to strengthen my back (it was injured rather badly recently) and determined to make the most of the day, I headed off to the gym. Who else would be here at 5 in the morning on a Sunday?

Who indeed.

Fucking Barry - is there no escape?? What is it with this guy? Am I doomed to be constantly running into him? If I thought he had any concept that other people actually exist, I’d start to wonder if he was stalking me. It’s gone past the point of sheer bad luck - although I’ve come to expect the universe to robustly offer me the finger so I’m assuming that this is merely another opportunity for the fates to fuck me up. This man can find me no matter where I am - somebody should put him on the trail of Lord Lucan.

I introduced Barry back in October - he’s the insufferable, wildly successful arsehole I went to law school with. He’s not smart, but his rat-like cunning has served him well and has ensured a speedy climb up the greasy corporate pole.

It wasn't even dawn and I staggered towards the lifecycles and listlessly began to pedal. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barry coming out of the men’s locker room with a book. I did a double take - Barry? At this hour?? With a book???

The last book Barry voluntarily opened featured red and blue fish as protagonists and had large, colourful pictures to help him follow the plot. Even then, I am sure he would have preferred to wait for the film.

Hmmmmm... .. Barry with a book... I pondered a universe suddenly gone mad.

"Good morning early bird", he said (after checking that there was nobody cuter in the room - male or female). He waved the hardback volume at me. "Look at this! You know what this means?"

I flinched at his overly hearty tone and looked up at him wearily.

"Well?" he prompted. "Do you?"

"All your stuff is sliding off the end of your coffee table?" He glared at me. "Oh, you mean apart from that. Nope, sorry, I’m stumped."

He didn’t miss a beat. "No, this is the key to the future. It is life-changing. You should give it a look."

I glanced at the cover. "The Art of the Deal" by Donald Trump. Wasn’t it a bit early for all of this?

"Look, I’ve got to run... " I said, as I beat a hasty retreat. "I had Mexican last night." He waved me off with an airy hand and set The Donald up on the treadmill shelf.

"No problem. I’m sure I’ll see you soon."

Hmm... I had a cold chill down my spine as I realized that he was probably right.

Till next time,

M.