debut

The first day of our first MM presentation over, I sit on Parliament Station waiting for the 4:28 to Lilydale. The evening and night ahead are not to be contemplated. Yet. When the train rolls over the Mount Dandenong Road bridge I look at the headlights glistening on the slick surface, wonder if I have time to go to Mick’s shop and pick up a new wheel for my good woman’s bike.

Finally home after departing before seven to be in Parkville before eight, I let the JRT into the house, feed him, sag onto the couch. I watch AFL 360, my indulgence before sitting in front of keyboard and screen and revamping countless PowerPoint slides as my means of coming to terms with the material I must present tomorrow, same as last night.

I fall asleep, see little of the footy show, wake and wonder how I can possibly raise myself, turn my brain on, and produce anything sensible. I procrastinate by watching two recorded episodes of Agony Aunts before parking my arse just after nine. On the desk beside me is a mound of papers, a swatch of coloured highlighters, and two thumb-drives packed with electronic resources.

I beaver into the night, annotating notes pages, tweaking the PowerPoint slides, adding colour and meaning with photos gleaned via Mr Google. Hour after hour passes and I cover one of tomorrow’s two modules. I crash at three in the morning, can do no more than clean my teeth, pack my bag.

The JRT gets no walk for four days as I depart in the dark and arrive home in the dark. I apologise to him when I shove him out the back door in the pre-dawn and again when he greets me twelve hours later. At half past three in the morning he crawls into his bed in my bedroom as I crawl into mine. I must get up in two hours.

  

Rock on.