I didn’t sleep well last night. In fact, I didn’t sleep until two in the morning, by which time, disconsolate at my insomnia, I’d sat on the sofa in the living room and eaten a whole bag of cheesy poofs. You see, sleep deprivation does make you fat.
Shortly after I went to bed, the pollution index spiked at 150, which is the "don’t go outside I’d you can help it" level of noxiousness. It had dropped a little by the time we woke up, but still high enough to drive my wife into an ecstasy of rushing around the flat, shutting windows to keep the smoky stench out. I put on the air purifier and the room began to warm up. The haze sucks.
I still had to take La Serpiente to school today, which meant carefully timing the journey to the bus stop. We left the flat with 5 minutes’ grace, and at the bottom of the lift I realised I’d have to carry her to make it to the bus stop on time. But I had my backpack too, so I had to put it on backwards, give La Serpiente a piggy back and sprint to the bus stop. We made it just in time, minimising exposure to bad air, but then I had to carry her the quarter mile from the other bus stop to her school too. After that I was giddy and nauseous; was it the haze? The heat? The 21 kg of solid child I’d just yomped across town with?
I went to work, and had an unsatisfying morning working with data, until I discovered the data I was assuming I had … I didn’t have. In a huff, I had lunch instead, then snacked all afternoon while building PowerPoint slides. In the evening, we went out on the train to the far east. Well, I suppose we’re in the Far East. The further east? The furthest? Whatever, it seemed everyone in Singapore was taking the green line today, nobody was moving down inside the carriages, everyone was being obstreperous… I don’t know how I made it to a nice Chinese restaurant for dinner with punching anybody, but I did. We saw old friends from Hong Kong and new acquaintances, including a man with the same middle name as me. What coincidence could that be?
Of course, a Chinese restaurant and dinner usually means no dinner for me. Some tofu, a bit of rice and some wine, then home in a taxi, with me sneezing and sniffling all the way home. Damn you haze.