Monday Morning

I hate Mondays. I open my eyes, just to realise that I am not dreaming, that sound is my alarm going off. I set the stupid thing 6 hours ago, but it feels like I've only been asleep for 20 minutes. I reluctantly drag myself to the shower (I am now taking showers under 10 minutes, miracles do happen),  my mind fully aware that I have a bus to a catch, while my body keeps screaming, “F*%k this S**t, take me back to bed.” Unfortunately, sanity and the mind prevailed.

15 minutes later, I'm in the kitchen, yelling at the kettle to hurry the f**k up or I won't have time to finish eating my breakfast, again. I'm distracted for a moment, I walk to the couch to put my shoes on, my feet have realised what I've known for a while. Winter has arrived. In fact, it's sitting in a spinning chair playing with the dials on the weather machine, probably asking itself, “Let's see what happens in Windhoek, if I make it rain in Cape Town?”

I’m stirring the sugar into my coffee, when I look at my phone and realise that I am late. Yep, after giving up on it in September 2010 - March 2013, I'm drinking meteorite juice (coffee) regularly again. I decide to put the sandwich in the microwave and eat it when I get home from work. I open the microwave, and there’s yesterday’s breakfast and last night’s dinner, uneaten. I realise that not only am I too skinny to be starving myself. I am too young to be living life so fast that yesterday is basically blurred. I make a bold decision, I am going to walk to my bus stop and eat my breakfast at the same time. How I am going to lock the front door with a cup and a plastic plate is anyone’s guess.

With some luck and some good juggling skills, I am out the door and on my way to catch my bus to work. I spy, with my little eye, my neighbours Audi hatchback. At first I thought she was a flight attendant, her car was always parked, and she’s always lugging a small suitcase around. Turns out that she’s a sales manager, and business looks like it is booming!

She once gave me a lift to the bus stop, I was on night shift then. “You’re going to work now?” She asked.

I nodded to affirm. Words were in short supply.

“At night? So you’ll be knocking off in the morning? When normal people are getting up and having breakfast?”

I nodded again. Who knew she had a sense humour?

I walked down the street slowly, taking a bite of my sandwich, and a sip of coffee at the same time. The security guards at the petrol station laugh as I walk past, I can imagine the thoughts in their heads, and they probably suspect that I'm crazy. Which wouldn't be the first time that someone has assumed that.

I stop to look at a majestic sight, a darkening orange lights up the horizon, setting the fading darkness on fire – the defining glow of early dawn in Windhoek City. I never thought I’d settle in Windhoek, place makes me restless, too much hustle and not enough humanity at times. But it’s the centre of Namibian life, the city of dreams – those deferred and those realised.

After what seems like a marathon long walk. I’m at my bus stop. The bus drives past, I wave and it stops 200 meters up the road. I’ve taken buses from Lisbon to Paris, but this one is by far the most complicated, sometimes I think the driver does it on purpose. The brake lights are on, then the reverse lights go on, I meet the bus halfway and walk towards it. As it pulls up and the door swings open, my mood switches to gloomy and uninterested. I reach into my pockets, pull out my dying MP3 player and let the music distract me. I try to be positive, all I have to do is dodge rocks for 8 hours, and I’ll be back home in no time – preferably with all limbs attached and working.

I hate Mondays.