Scribbles

The Case of the Lost Sausage Roll

March 2, 2017

I am tired. It’s 11am on the first day of the month, I’m still at home and I need to get back to the office to perform month-end (February) activities.

It feels like I haven’t slept the whole February. My statement is an exaggeration, but it is how “this” feels like.

“This” being awake most nights supporting this and that, having calls for this and that, and now pulling another all-nighter and working until 9am for this and that.

“This” being someone who still needs to do some chores because hello, mother to a 10 year old, and I have no nannies or helpers at home. Why do I torture myself like so.

I am tired and hungry and I need to get back to the office.

I should stop by Starbucks and get coffee and a bite of something.

Sausage roll and cold brew.

To go please.

On any other day, I’d probably ogle the cute barista. Or flirt with him. But definitely not today.

Yawns while I wait, but that didn’t take long.

Stuffs my change, receipt and food bag into my sling bag. Grabs jacket and with coffee in hand, I march to the terminal.

Ugh, Sucat road has killer traffic. Thank god I do not have to drive. Almost at Skyway entry now. It’s a good time to bite into that sausage roll.

Holy mother duck. It’s not in my bag.

More expletives.

I could have sworn I ordered food. Did I just dream it?

Checks receipt. Bites fingernail. Looks at a distance. Did another bag rummage. No food bag.

My sleep-deprived brain has failed me. My stomach cries.

I come up with possibilities where I left or dropped the bag while I update Facebook status to try to distract me.

Distraction fail. I just want my sausage roll.

Sigh. Might as well just get to work.

+++

After 2 hours in the office, the cold air coming from the a/c has finally gotten to me. I wear my jacket and head to the restroom. Puts hands into my side pockets.

Curses under my breath.

Hello, bag of sausage roll.

 

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