8.24

Morning shower. I like to turn up the heat and boil myself under the shower head especially if it is cold outside, without worrying too much about my 'contribution' or lack thereof, towards the water crisis. After all, what's the use of having water if its not to be enjoyed, especially on a cold gloomy morning.

Shampoo smells good when you mix it with soap. Especially if its moisturising body wash; you get a very nice and foamy experience, although I doubt it would be very good for your hair - kinda fucks up the follicles. Because I have so little of it (no pun intended), I don’t really care.

I never really liked shaving. Not only can I not afford to buy a decent pair of razors, I'm also really cannot be fucked in the morning, especially when my vision is like, blurry. Putting a sharp blade against your face in the wee hours of the morning is not a very clever thing to do.

Morning rush hour usually means rushing out of the house because I've woken up late (damn that alarm clock) and have had no time to eat breakfast (but have spent the last 25mins having a nice hot shower). So I resort to stocking up with bananas, which are plentiful and cheap in Coles after the stocks up in Queensland started recovering from Cyclone Larry. I like the versatility of the banana and how it reacts with your saliva, and the easy no-hassle brekkie it provides. Occasionally I'd settle for mushy Wheatbix but most of the time I just can't be bothered.

Usually I leave the house at 8.24am on the dot, because that's the time the leveled-crossing bells start sounding and the train starts arriving. Missing that train will mean being late for class, like, 20mins. Of course, everybody thinks like me and wakes up at the same time, crowds the station at the same time, all along the Sandringham line. So by the time the train arrives it is packed like sardines and you have to jostle with a hundred other people waiting to get in and one or two trying to get out. And yes, if you miss this one, you're gonna be late, so by all means push. Everybody does it.

I wish I could wake up for the 8.04am train but that's just too much effort. At least pushing doesn't require too much drama.

Every morning, being squashed up against a whole bunch of random strangers presents its opportunity for you to view and grope another person, especially those in one's reach. Occasionally you get bloody CK perfume stuffing your nose up, but most of the time people smell of cheap aftershave and hairgel. I've never really been conscious about my own contribution to this mass of inorganic vapours, because there's always a screamer with a barrel-full of Dior stink-o standing nearby to help mask my mondaymorningAsiandelight

Every now and again you get cuties on the 8.24. Besides being able to observe the freckles on their skin and the scent of their black suits, the close proximity almost means legal molestation. What a fantasy. I've never found myself in a 8.24 with more than half-an-arm's length distance between me and the person next to me, and the closeness can sometimes make me wet.

Then again, I might not necessarily like to stand next to a person who smells of old socks, or who has silicon the size of salad bowls.