My alarm rudely wakes me up, I hate this blooming thing! I get up with a start every morning, I need to get one of those slow, light wake up alarm clocks…but I’ve been saying that for about a year now. I haul myself up out of bed and get ready, in the autopilot mode I manage to do it in every day. I always end up rushing at the end of my morning routine, fighting to get my cufflinks on and falling over trying to get my left foot into its sock (I always struggle with the left foot). I eventually win both fights and head to the dining table to grab my car keys. On my way I remember that weird necklace thing from last night, I will grab that on my way out and inspect it more at work. Huh, that’s odd, I am sure that I put the necklace right here, in fact I am sure of it. I scan the dining table to see if it was anywhere else; it wasn’t. That is super odd, I wonder where that has gone, pieces of jewellery don’t just get up and walk away. I can’t look now though, I am late as it is. I will look for it later when I come home. I dash for the front door and spin my way into the corridor, slamming and locking the door behind me. I turn and hurriedly run down the stairs, out the main entrance and skip towards my car as I try and juggle all the objects I am trying (but failing) to hold. I throw everything into my car and start the engine up, it’s a bit cold this morning so I have to defrost my windscreen. I rub my hands to warm them up as the air blasters slowly de-condensate my windows. Through the hazy windscreen I am sure I see my landlady looking at me from her flat window…I try and focus more by leaning in, closer to the blurry glass but spill my scolding coffee on my crouch as I do so. “Shit!” I proclaim as I rub my crouch furiously with some manky old tissue I found in my door shelf. By the time I look back up to the flats, there is no figure in the window, maybe it was just a water mark on my windshield. I drive off after my car defrosts and pray to the driving gods that I am not too late to work.
I am procrastinating again, this job bores me to tears, if I had a choice of my dream job; this would be at the bottom of the list. Its not even as though I am earning loads of money for my misery, its an OK pay, but it doesn’t allow me to buy my own place. I am still renting, and the rent is huge as well, for a 2 bed property. But at least I have a nice landlady…well, she has her moments like last night, but overall I think she’s lovely. The flat though, is a bit creepy in general. It’s a very old Victorian property, I live on the first floor and my landlady lives on the ground floor. Its just the two of us in the property but sometimes I hear things, unusual bangs and knocks from adjacent rooms. When I go and see what the noises are, nothing is ever there. My mate told me to look at the history of the house, so I did…once and only once. A lot of weird shit happened in that place, some of which I think makes my mind wander late at night. A lot of paranormal activity, ghosts, witches and sacrifices, stories which I don’t know if they are made up or not. There were some official newspaper articles on it though, so some of it must be true, but I didn’t delve deeper as to find out which ones were. I have to live in that place after all. My procrastinating is abruptly halted as my boss slams a stack of paper on my desk, I smile at him and he shuffles away. That’ll be me one day, the dickhead manager that nobody likes, something to look forward to I suppose.