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Rush |
Monday, 20 March 2000 |
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It has been raining and it's heavily clouded.
The mornings starts wet and dull.
So I have trouble waking up, and am a bit later than usual.
A bit grumbling I get my bike out of the shed. I am late and should hurry. Will I just make it to the train, or will I just miss it? Yet, I resent the typical Dutch rush. I refuse to rush since I worked in Asia for a while. Let time be made of rubber. It is no disaster to live your life an hour late. Motto: Hate the haste!
It's too much. Gravity works against me. My front wheel slips away. The street comes closer. Obviously, I did not yet complete the course "How to fall smoothly with a bike between your knees". I hit the tiles. My left hand is bleeding, both my shins hurt. Gr, this was not the best of days yet, and now this. The damage is minor though. All my limbs are functioning. My cloths are just a little bit dirty. I get back on my feet, bend my bike’s mudguard straight and continue my way. Now I'm even more late because of this fall. Will I be able to catch the train. Does it matter?
I do catch the train and install myself comfortably at a window seat. "Why do other people rush?", so I wonder as the station glides away from me.
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Obituary: Silbersternchen 1927 - 2000 | ||
February 2000
· Weather
· Right
· Rush
· Half
· April 2000
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