Good Friday?

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I fell asleep Thursday night out of mere exhaustion. I’ve been going home late, meeting different people and talking over coffee or regional French cuisine at Café Provençal, sleeping at around 1:30 in the morning when I had to wake up at 5. It’s fine though, it seems I’ve gotten myself accustomed to having minimal hours of sleep unlike in the past. Thursday night though I forgot to set the alarm(s).
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I woke up 6:30 am, took a quick shower (well maybe not) and ate cereals for breakfast because it was an observed holiday so nobody else was eating that early in the morning.
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(1) As I walked through the side streets for my ride (the train’s on vacation too) I reached inside my leather bag for my earphones and pushed the play > button on the mini remote. I forgot, I took out that 1 CD last night after I fell asleep listening to it (L’ Amour Et La Musique by The Cousins & the Benassi duo). So there, like old traditions, I was not allowed to listen to anything on a Good Friday.
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Of course I wasn’t late. Although there wasn’t traffic, that ride cost me a pretty penny (I used up what I earned from work to buy myself a new Sony Ericsson K700i) (It’ll be 2 weeks to go till my next pay check). I hurried up to the 17/F to fix up my stuff and get a good seat near the window where I can see the rest of the city in slumber (at least those who’d been unlucky enough not to go to the beach). (2) I dropped 2 P5 coins into the vending machine to get myself a cute cup of Nescafé (with creamer and sugar). The cup inside the machine did not go all the way to where the spout was, and I stood there amongst other officemates staring in disbelief as the water, coffee, creamer, and sugar went straight down the drain. (My shock will keep me awake, I told myself).
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Back to my favorite post beside the window, I calmly waited as the seconds ticked toward the start of the day.

… :46

… :47

… :48

… :49

… :50. Enter (click), (beep) Log-in Failed. (3)
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The supervisor relocated me near the walkway and 3 minutes later my day had officially begun.
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I remember my mother telling me last night that if I didn’t have any calls at 3pm to pray in respect for Christ’s death on the cross. At exactly 3 o’ clock in the afternoon, I was leaving a message in a poor guy’s answering machine that contained the words fuck, bitch, cock, and nigger. (At least it was tame, I told myself).
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(4) Sometime during the long waiting periods (around 4 minutes or more per interval) and reading through my book (Alvin Toffler’s The Third Wave), I fell asleep. There beside the walkway, in plain view of my supervisors, sat my vulnerable self, dreaming of the Marxist Socialsim and Taylor’s Scientific Management. (At least I didn’t get caught, I told myself when I woke up) (Hehehehe)
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The rest of the day was okay. It HAD been a good Friday in retrospect. Like always, I had nothing to complain about.
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After dinner, lying comfortably in my bed, after smoking one of those menthols, I fell asleep listening to an entire album (Fiona Apple’s Tidal).
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(5) Five minutes later, I start dreaming of ∏ (Pi) and it wasn't good.
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