Routining Woolworths’ many grocery aisles, as I did this morning, raises some interesting questions. Why the hell would anybody buy a can full of lamb tongues? Is “air” really the scent you should be purchasing to freshen your toilet or bathroom? What role does “Ham sauce” have to play in the evolution of mankind? These questions, and many more, plagued me as the tenth hour of my shift at Woolworths ticked over some time around 7:00 this morning.
Sleeping the day away isn’t nearly as cool as you might expect, and waking up at 5:00pm leaves me wondering how I’m supposed to get to sleep tonight, if ever. Meanwhile, twin sets of tiny red marks on my body lead me to wonder whether a tiny mosquito man and his tiny mosquito wife have taken up residence in my bedroom, or whether my girlfriend has simply succumbed to the unholy bloodlust of vampirism. Either way I’m screwed. Not even Ham Sauce can save me now.