Prologue - Part 1

You would think living across the road from a tram stop would indicate not needing an umbrella, wouldn’t you? But it’s winter, it’s pouring with rain, and as always I’m forced to dash across the road to the apartment whilst trying to minimise the damage to my suit...and my hair.

I own and umbrella. In fact between the three of us we own four umbrellas. But they all sit next to the door in the umbrella stand. None of us are really sure why we even have an umbrella stand; it was probably obtained in a frivolous trip to Ikea, and it, like the coat rack next to it, sit there more for decoration than for actual use.

Of course on days like today, the thought of an umbrella is comforting. But carrying an umbrella around with me all day is annoying, and half the time I would leave the umbrella at work in my haste to get to the tram.

Plus it doesn’t match my suit.

As always, the mail hasn’t been checked. I’m the last one home for the day, yet somehow the mailbox always seems to remain ignored as everyone else makes their way home. Anyone would think I live with lazy people. Or at least people who don’t care about thinks like bills and speeding fines.

Speaking of bills, included in today’s batch is an internet bill – second notice. Colin was supposed to pay this about a month ago. Clearly he saw better things to do with his time. At least climbing the stairs to the apartment allows me to take out some of my frustration.

As I get into the apartment though, everything is almost forgiven. Either pre-empting my anger or simply because he was motivated for a change, Colin is cooking. I have no idea what it is but the smell is to die for. I just hope that he’s made enough for two...

EDIT 8/9
“Before you start nagging...it’s been paid already.” Colin shouted from the kitchen. “And if you can de-business yourself in ten minutes dinner will be ready.”

Colin is unfortunately perceptive. It’s a frustrating when I’ve prepared a rant, only to have it cut off before I can even begin.

Colin then dashes into the living room to get something from the fridge and looks at me, standing in the doorway, dripping wet still, with an expression on my face that I feel is somewhere between confused and angry. He just pokes out his tongue and returns to the kitchen.

“I wasn’t going to nag!” I shout out at him. “By the way...”

“The rent is on your bed. With a towel. You’re dripping on the floor and it’s my turn to clean the floors this week. So if you wouldn’t mind making less of a muddy mess on our doorstep it would be appreciated.”

Sometimes you can’t win. Although I can’t help but smile; it’s probably the one day a month when Colin is actually being thoughtful, so it’s often best to go with it, laugh, and then enjoy the moment. Of course enjoying the moment requires walking very slowly through the lounge room, taking care to drip as much as possible as I do.

After drying my hair, re-doing my hair twice, then deciding that no one important is going to see my hair and giving up on it, I return to the lounge room. By this point more than ten minutes has passed and Colin is sitting at the dining table with a bowl in front of him. I stop at the fridge on the way for a beer and join Colin.

Having the fridge in the lounge room is both a curse and a blessing. The reason for such an occurrence is a combination of my father going ‘here...take the credit card and buy a fridge’, and my choice of a huge double-door fridge that unfortunately doesn’t fit into the alcove in the kitchen. The end result is a fridge in the lounge room (great for getting drinks while watching tv, a pain to run to while cooking), and an empty alcove in the kitchen which is used to house a plant, and a stolen standee of Orlando Bloom. Needless to say, Pirates of the Caribbean and a house plant makes for an interesting feature, and a lounge room with a fridge in it breaks new ground for interior decorating.

“Let me guess, Travis won’t be joining us for dinner tonight?” I ask as I join Colin at the dinner table.

“Well since you’re eating his dinner, no. He ran out of the house for a date about ten minutes before you left. I think it was another Ben this time...or maybe a Brad.”

So that explained the dinner. I always suspected that Colin being prepared was too good to be true. But dinner is dinner and it’s best not to complain about such things until after the meal.

“This is where my ‘don’t even bother trying to remember their name until the third date’ rule comes in handy. It’s best just to call them all Steve and be done with it.” I replied.
“Why Steve?”
“Well I figure it’s generic enough, and it’s more polite than giving them numbers or basing their identifications on the article of clothing they leave behind.”
“But I always through blue g-string was a nice guy...”
“I think the less said about that incident the better. I’m sure blue g-string was a nice guy, although hearing him all night every night for a week wasn’t as exciting as it sounds.”
“It’s not my fault you want Travis in the bedroom next to you!”
“I wanted him in the bedroom furthest from the bathroom. At least I know you don’t spend half an hour in there every morning waxing, plucking and straightening.”
“Says the man who just spent fifteen minutes trying to resurrect his hair following it getting rained upon?”

At this point I felt that the English language had failed me in terms of witty repartee, and so I responded by throwing a convenient piece of stir-fry at Colin. Who said maturity was my strong point?