Process

I am slightly damp from the shower and naked, this is important to note because I have just rolled a cigarette so now I am covered in tiny flakes of tobacco. The tobacco flakes are sticking to me and will not swipe off, I am guessing this is not a good start to dressing appropriately to meet a man for drinks.

My hair is wrapped in a purple towel, my ears are full of water, something is slightly smelly in my bedroom but I do not know what. The heel of my left foot is sore due to over zealous scrubbing with that scratchy rock thing in the shower. The left side of my back aches and feels put out of place, there is a terrific crick in my neck.

I am hungry but unsure of what or how much to eat before embarking on my mission. Ah, my mission. I am meeting Zissou for a drink in one hour and forty nine minutes. This is ample time to dress, dry my hair, have something to eat and walk into Newtown. I think. My bedroom is quite untidy, things are strewn about, there are piles of books, clean clothes, a chocolate wrapper, shoes, unopened mail and a giant self portrait I painted in 1991.

Leaving the office I stuffed a linguistics text book in my handbag thinking that if conversation was stilted I could simply whisk it out and propose examining a sentence or two. I was very happy with this plan for about two minutes then I realised that it might be odd like a balloon holding a child. Best not to do that in a bar on a Friday night.

I will wear something that covers any remaining tobacco flakes, this will be my dress code.