Sunday afternoon

Not sure what it is today. Woke up thinking what a beautiful morning it is and will be… to be ruined by an argument and shouting down the corridor. Not my fight, and I pretended as usual I didn’t hear.

Had breakfast, and somehow I ended up spending over an hour wandering around in my room and wondering whether I should go the library. Problem was, on Sundays the library is open only four hours, and it takes me around two hours just to get there and back. Being indecisive, I weighed all the 'pros' and 'cons' of "Going to the library on a Sunday" in my head... If I go, I could get some useful books and finally (try and) finish off something to hand into my thesis supervisor tomorrow... But if I did go, I'd have to spend money on the train and also probably feel tired from travelling... If I go, I could get away from this house... but if I did go, I might bump into people and probably might not get any work done at all.

In the end I went. The minute I hopped on my bike things started to go a little wrong. I was cycling for a bit in the opposite direction until I could cross the road, and I almost collided into a bunch of people head on. Then, once I got to the other side, three little girls cycled against the traffic, and I had to brake very suddenly to avoid hitting them. They didn't seem to realise and just rode on, but I was left dazed for a moment or two, my mind plagued by images of what could have happened.

On and on I cycled toward the station, enjoying the sun and green shade below the row of trees that aligned the cycle-path. Out of no where a brown rat ran across the path from left to right. I thought it would run on, but instead it suddenly changed directions and turned around to cross the path again. I panicked and this fear of running over this little brown rat gripped me. I missed by mere inches, lucky that I braked in time, and lucky that it ran away quickly enough not to be squashed into mouse mince under my bike wheel. I didn’t want to be guilty of killing another living being, bad enough after the ‘snail incident’ a few weeks ago.

As I made my way to the law faculty, just minding my own business, out of nowhere a pigeon dropped a green pile of poo in front of me. Had I been a mere second quicker, the poo would have struck my head, I thought to myself. It was so close that as the poo splattered onto the ground, the tip of my shoe got splashed on. A close escape...

But it was only when I went to the bathroom minutes later did I realise that the pigeon did hit me! I guess I was lucky not on my clothes or on my body... but the poo landed squarely on my backpack. Slimy, grimy, green and smelly... My fingers accidentally touched the pile. I felt disgusted, hastily grabbed some paper towels and moistened it with water and began to wipe and wipe and wipe. Nothing seemed to get the stain out...

Managed to get some solid work done in the library, and decided it was around time to go home. With my string of good luck, the moment I stepped out the door it started to rain. Drizzle at first, and then it poured. My coat and clothes got soaked, and I quickly looked in my bag for that umbrella I usually have in there. To my luck I had decided the other day that I probably won't be needing it anymore these days, so took it out.

Drenched, dripping, I dragged myself home… to console myself by listening to ‘Lemon Tree’.