HOW TIME FLIES: DIARY ENTRY OR SO IT SEEMS

Yesterday was a busy day for me. I woke up to my fan rotating and I was thankful for that. The heat for the past three days has been unbelievable. I mean brother man almost passed out two days ago. Well I had been running errands on an empty stomach all day, so that made it even worse. By the time I had lunch or brunch or whatever new name the food eaten by 11.59am now has, I had a splitting headache, I was dehydrated and my skin was drenched.

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Well yesterday, I ensured that I didn't fall into that same trap, so I ate immediately I woke up. Now I normally don't eat until late morning or afternoon or evening at times. It is a bad habit and unhealthy, I know but food is mostly an afterthought for me. I don't know if that makes me a bad person though. Lol. Anyways, my brother looked at me weirdly all through but I didn't mind. I needed to get my fuel.

You see my folks were coming to town and I had to go open the old place, air it and welcome them at the door when they arrive. My dad likes to work. I hate to do any form of manual labour. My father likes to recruit me in his spontaneous cleaning programs. I hate being recruited for said cleaning programs. So I made a good plan or so I thought.

I knew I was going to work but I had to make my time as brief as possible so I can avoid as much of the work load as possible. While I contemplated all these inanities, my brother came to inform me that the gas cylinder was empty. I just sang in my head that lovely Kenny Rogers song, You picked the right time to leave me Lucy. Now I had to add filling the gas cylinder to my list of activities for the day. Did I tell you i hate physical labour of any sort?

My brother had to go to work so that onus or onions, whatever pronunciation soothes you, fell on me to handle it all. Well I dropped my plate in the kitchen sink, as you well know I hate physical labor and I settle down to read a really great novel.

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Mark Lawrence impressed me the first time with his Broken Empire Books. I love irreverence attached to ability. It is so freeing. A character who has the charisma and the power to thumb his or her nose at authority is always a hero in my book. Now you know why Matrim Cauthon of The Wheel of Time Compendium is my favourite character. He is the archetype of the I don't give a f ** k character. Jorg Ancarth manages to be irreverent and stubborn even as he carved his way to power in the Broken Empire trilogy.

I have been ignoring Red Sister, another book by Mark Lawrence for a while now because I was binging on Robert Jordan's The Wheel Of Time again and the high couldn't let me stay focused on anything but I had entered twitter by chance and saw a tweet by fantasy faction. They had introduced the me to Peter Brett's Warded Man and I loved the series. I have no regrets. You should try the novels sometime. Anyway, when I checked their List of top 100 novels of the fantasy genre and saw Red Sister by Mark Lawrence among them, I knew I had to read it.

Unfortunately, I have another aggravating character deficiency. The moment a book has its hooks inside me, I become useless for every other thing. I can lie on my stomach for a whole day just reading. I won't talk, eat, chat or bathe. Yes, I am terrible, I know. So though I had to fill my gas and also go clean my parents' place, I relaxed into the novel and forgot the world for a few hours.

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At about 2pm, my old man called me and informed me that they had just boarded a bus. I wished them a safe journey and went back to my book. By this time, power was gone and the heat was slipping into the room with each subtle twitch of the window curtain. I knew I should go and have my bath but I was complete unable to move from the bed.

At about 4pm, I jumped out of the bed, had a quick shower and rushed to my parents'. The place was musty and stale so I opened the windows and started the tedious job of cleaning two months of dust. I hate physical labour more than I hate repeating myself.

Some minutes later, they arrived with smiles and laughter. They had not sat down for 2 seconds and I was on a motorbike with a gas cylinder on my lap. Yes, I had to go fill their cylinder for them while mine sat empty in my kitchen. It is so unfair, I tell you. Well I did it just fine, anyhow and had to tow it on my shoulder from the gate to the house on the return journey. Motorbikes are not allowed into the estate that my parents live in. It is just cruel and shoulder still hurts.

I got to the house and behold my dad had a machete and a rake. He was already weeding the backyard. The man just arrived from a journey for Christ sake! He is supposed to be buslagged or something. What is he doing with a rake? I walked passed him without looking directly at the grass as if ignoring it would make it disappear. Well it didn't.

30 minutes later, I had grime in my nails, dust on my nose and grass on my head. I was sweaty and itchy and I was looking at the rake with a hatred that has spanned countless empires. I wanted to melt the thing down and leave it in liquid form for all of eternity. Is that possible?

Mom was at the market so I didn't get smothered with too much mushiness. I can't stand all the worry; why are you not eating? You look so thin. Hope you are not thinking too much? Go and cut that beard. Allow your hair to grow. This baldness does not suit you. It is just too much. Anyhow I managed to escape after buying petrol for the power generating set. Oh yes, the estate has not had power for about four years now. How time flies when you are having fun eh?

On my way back to the peace and quiet of my home, I had to stand on a queue to use the ATM. That stand stole an hour of my life. I was able to get the money out though then I boarded a motorbike back to my home, got my gas cylinder out, boarded another motorbike to the gas plant. Well it was closed, the gas plant. What can I say?

I turned back and had to fill my gas cylinder from a roadside peddler. Then took the heavy thing back home. As soon I dropped the cylinder in my kitchen, I picked up a plastic can and walked to a petrol filling station to get petrol for my power generating set. Yes we would be sleeping in the heat tonight obviously.

I got back home and made noodles and eggs on the gas stove. I ate, had my bath and fell back to Lawrence's Red Sister and a world of nuns who can kill faster than a secret service agent. Did I say that I am happy that my old folks are around? Oh yes I am. Less cooking from me, more properly cooked meals for me.

I don't know why I wrote this lengthy entry in my off and on diary but it is proper to write some things down. Who knows who will come after eh?

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NOTE: this is a work of both fact and fiction. It is left for me to know the parts that are factual and the parts that are fiction. It is left for you to wonder about it. 😂 😂 Good morning.

©warpedpoetic, 2019.