It best not come in threes. Please.

Sunday evening has come to an end, and I was hoping to be thrilled that my 13 day stretch of back to back 9 – 11 hour plus shifts was up after tomorrow’s finale, and on Tuesday, I could rest. But no… and not just because my body would probably go in to shock if I done that, so should probably get some movement in at least, but because I really am hoping a third drama isn’t due to occur.

The only other full time member of my team has been on leave for the past two weeks, so I have been running the afternoon/close shifts at the Health Club on my tod. I’m doing well, getting rest in where I can, eating right, working out every (week) day, keeping positive and feeling great. The motivation was not only fuelled by the speed of these shifts due to the mass flow of delightful members, but also that I was voted Top Dog of the month for August. Bugger me I was chuffed when that was announced. Too kind.

Top Dog!

Upon finishing my shift on Thursday evening, at 10.20pm, I hoped on my bicycle, fastened my helmet, flicked on the front and rear lights and was homeward bound. Three quarters of the way home and three youths who were on local hire bikes, helmet free, no lights, no understanding of the cycling proficiency test taken at primary school, but all the same opting for a game of ‘chicken’, decided to ram in to me, circle around and ram into me again, so that I was crushed between mine and two other bikes. Did I lose my shizzle? Nope. Did I keep a low tone, come across extremely disappointed and speak to them like the five year olds they were behaving? Yes, I sure did. Lifting up my throbbing leg and slowly peddling away after a few minutes of discussion, I was also hoping the new late night bus service would take them out about 100 yards up the road. Scamps.

Three days on and the bruises are still popping out, the lumps are hardening up, the ankle is still swollen and sore, and my right arse cheek, well, turns out it’s not as cushioned as it as looks, it’s quite the throbbing area of late.

That’s all gone to a different nook in my mind as tonight’s newest shinanigans is my aforementioned bike, helmet and lights, all securely fastened in my work car park, went and got bloody stolen tonight didn’t it. Yip. My mode of transportation, in the secure location of my work; poof, gone, vamooshed.

Bradley came in post netball to throw it on the bike rack and give me a lift home, and well, he managed to get out of another chore as the blasted bike weren’t even there. Sigh. Seriously, what is with people in this day and age.

Again, did I rant and rave and lose my shizzle? Nope. I’m just once again disappointed. People.

Tomorrow will now consist of a call to the police, a call to the bike shop and a call to my old colleagues at the insurance office, and then an hour and 40 minute walk to work. I’ll then participate in a workout, followed by a ten hour working day, and at 10.15pm, endure an hour and 40 minute walk home.

It’s surprising to believe that I’m still smiling, but I hear we women are funny characters and that our moods can change at the flick of a switch. Just for safety therefore readers, and to help keep the environment green, let’s keep those switches set to off for a little while now shall we…probably wise.

Be safe, and apparently, extra secure xxx

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