The holidays are over. The fun has ended. I returned to my morose self like a turtle retreating reluctantly back to its shell.
The packing was easy. I never really unpacked in the first place. The only thing that required packing is the computer and road bike. My precious road bike. Yes, my precious. You are coming with me this time. You will help me lose a mammoth quantity of weight; something I have come to aquire during my month and a half stay in lazy-hazy Christchurch.
The drive was fairly unexciting and mundane. I tried to enjoy the brilliant sunshine on display, but the thought of work would cast an instant shadow over the horizon. I drove on, with my fate wrapped in a box of chocolates.
The ferry ride was ok. I watched more episodes of Robot Chicken to calm my restless tide. I think there was a kid watching behind me; he ran off after big bird started getting high on weed.
I saw real, live and untamed dolphins for the first time in my life. There were three of them following the boat from starboard side. Once their presence was broadcasted throughout the ship, people gathered, and they were gone.
My flat is as I had remembered it. Though the rotting mailbox and shower has been replaced with newer mailbox and showers; ones made with more rot resistant material, I hope. Unpacking proved to be vastly more tiring than driving for six hours. I threw everything on the floor and hungered for a tasty tender chicken breast. I didn't just hunger for it. I knew it would complete me. And it did.
A new day passed. A new love found. A future of diabetes and heart disease await.
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