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Monday, September 27, 2004
The elevator stank of anti-persperant and perfume, fabric conditioner and the shoe polish. I stumbled forward as it began its ascent and inadvertently inhaled a lungful of shampoo.
I hated this part of Monday mornings most. Getting up to puke away the last of the alcohol, brush teeth, scrape the tongue, gargle as deep down the back of my throat, then shower off the smell of cigarettes. Dressing in clothes that had been carefully wrapped in plastic to keep way the stink of nicotine. Waiting on a clean street for a clean bus to take me to another clean street. And then the elevator. The worst moment. There must be others in here with the same hell of a hangover who had gone through the same disguise process this morning, but none of us would acknowledge even if our eyes met. God, we are all hypocrites.
I couldn't face it any more. A the third floor, I pushed my way through the taint of dry cleaning and crispness of ironing. ' Be safe and remember to read your Bible,' the lift sang out as I left. What was so wrong with 'Have a nice day'?
OK, so it would be walking up twelve flights of stairs, but at least I'd be alone and when I got to my office, at least I'd have a valid reason if I threw up. I looked for the 'Remember Your Body Is A Temple' sign and headed for the stairs.
Heaving for breath, I finally reached my office. 'Temple. Body. Mine.', I panted at Edie the office supervisor. She frowned slightly, then realising she was being critical of me when I was properly observing care of the Lord's property, she produced the big smile and continued: 'Don't worry, we waited for you before we started morning prayers. We have a full office congregation today. Everyone will be there. Well, except for the temp Lorraine. She's a Jew, you know. But she has a license, so that's OK'.
Shit.
Time to face God, yet again.
1:24 AM
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