The good with the bad

Ever had one of those days for which the balance sheet of positive and negative aspects is roughly equal, and therefore you can’t decide if it was a “good day” or a “bad day”.

Monday started like any other: I woke at around 11 and lumbered out to bed to a jubilant Roxie who greeted me with barks and licks. I was feeling okish so I decided to hop a bus to the beach for some study. I chucked everything into my backpack, tore the map out of the phonebook so I wouldn’t get lost, and walked to the street for the bus. Halfway through the one minute walk to the busstop I realised I hadn’t brought my mp3 player or a towel but I thought I should just brave it. I had a great day at the beach on my own, reading heaps of stuff for a history essay, getting sand in my clothes and watching the cute boys playing football nearby.

At a bit after four, I walked up the ridiculously steep steps from the beach to the road and meandered over the bus stop to go back to Lala and Cal’s. As soon as I sat down on the bench at the bus stop I felt a sudden wash of cold, clammy nausea. I moved from the seat to the ground and sat with my back against a brick wall, willing it to piss off and leave me alone. After a while it became apparent that if I continued to sit there in the sun that things wouldn’t improve any time soon, so I picked up my bad and headed over to the nature reserve across the road. I walked ten or twenty metres down the path and lay on the cold ground and felt the nausea drain away. It occurred to me that I was lying down on the ground in what was probably a beat of some kind. Luckily I was able to get up unaccosted and get back to the bus stop in time to catch the bus.

I made it back in one piece but felt wiped out for the rest of the day. Roxie was happy to see my home thought; she lay with me on the lounge, her head next to mine, until the others came home.