2010

Each scrape felt like murder. It was, in a way. The merry colours of Christmas blurred together in gaudy streaks as they cascaded down the glass. The happiness of Christmas day now a dying memory.

I was slowly etching Christmas off the windows; large ribbons and baubles ran into streams of colour as I sweated away. Being a receptionist, my clothing probably made me the best dressed window cleaner for miles around. I always find people dressed inappropriately to be hilarious. I'd joined the ranks of girls who dress up for town in their nicest clothes and shoes, spend hours putting on make up and jewellery to later cling desperately to taxi door, with shaking legs, as they empty their bladder and stomach simultaneously. The visual paradox is great.

I paused by the bottom of one of the windows; a thick jelly had frozen on the glass, shells of the once soaring egg now suspended for me to clean off.

My brother, meanwhile, had text me to find a new ride home. He'd decided to go to Piha for the beach party and bands. Despite having 5 cars at home between the 3 of us, it still was too much to ask to be able to have a lift. I had practically resigned myself to walking home in the sweltering heat, enjoying the prickly sweat you get when you wear long pants and looking suspiciously religious in my dress shirt with a backpack on.

Then Nick saved my day. It's little wonder that he was dressed as superman on facebook. He is arriving in 10 minutes to deliver me from this decaying boredom. I think something fun will be on tonight; whatever it is, it beats work. I may have murdered Christmas today, but at least boredom went with it.