TGI Friday

It's the weekend. Finally. Sometimes it feels as if time deliberately decides to crawl really slowly up a vertical shaft, falling back several times to the bottom, before it reaches that place known as the 'past'. This week has past by as languidly as a dying turtle with a limp creeping backwards out of an abyss.

Clearly my brain is operating on 'save energy' mode due to the lack of external stimulation and slow passage of time this week. This may explain why I absentmindedly spilt yoghurt over myself at Pacific Coffee in the morning. The yoghurt was stacked on the top shelf and I lifted one up, only to disturb the ones next to it. Like a scene from 'The Matrix', all I could do was watch as the two cartons did a 'slow-mo' free fall to the floor. Then the white yoghurt went "splat!" over my newly dry-cleaned black suit, black stockings and black shoes. I gasped. The shop assistants gasped. The man next to me blanched.
"Are you all right? We're so sorry," the shop assistant said as he picked away the mess of yoghurt from me.
"Yes. I'm all right. I think so." I said, in a daze. My brain was still frozen on the image of the yoghurt cartons falling in slow motion.

I stink of strawberry yoghurt 100% new, creamy formula. My suit is spotty with tissue bits rolled up in dried yoghurt. 5.30 p.m. cannot come early enough.