Beating the 8 o’clock deadline

Hola peeps.

It’s 0821hrs on July 23^rd, 2018 and been in the office for 10 minutes now. First time in yonks I have left crib before 8am. Nada special about it I know but been having a longing for a while now to beat an 8am deadline for some reason. That’s ‘cos I set alarm to go off at 5am and though I go back to bed and sometimes sleep in for another hour, if I do start up at 5am I try to see if I can get out of the house before 8am. Why the magic witching hour? Dunno. It’s become my personal white whale. Usually I do not bother ‘cos I get to pick colleagues up on way to office and they are never ready at 8am ‘cos official start time is 9am. But for past 3 weeks colleagues I normally pick up have been away and yet I still have not been able to hack it. I always delay for some reason or find a way to push past 8am, even when I am wide awake at 5am.

Regular schedule should be wake up, turn on lights in bedroom and living room, turn off alarm, twist open first lock on door, turn on lights in bathroom, brush teeth, observe self in mirror and admire shape of abs, turn off lights in bathroom, do push-ups in bedroom, read Bible, change from PJs to underwear I wore yesterday or slept in, stretch for ____ (need to time this), take mothballs outta sneakers, put on socks and sneakers, turn on TV, do cardio for 20 plus minutes…while taking off sneakers for last 1 minute of cardio....still dunno why I do this, stretch for 1-2 mins, put moth balls in sneakers, place socks and soaked underwear in laundry basket, observe self in mirror and wonder why abs aren’t as defined as when I just woke up, pop in mouthwash, gargle and keep in mouth while showering, spit out mouthwash while towelling down, sprinkle talcum power in underwear and under armpit, apply beard oil, apply body lotion, comb/brush beard, put on fresh underwear…right leg first for some reason…need to switch to left sometime like I do with watch on wrists, spray deodorant, spray cologne, put on work clothes with right leg inside pants first for some reason, put on socks, then shoes, check self in mirror, blow self a kiss, pick up rucksack, turn off air-conditioner, turn off TV, turn off lights, twist open second lock on door, open door, walk out, lock door, place keys in bag, walk down the stairs and jump in car.

Easy enough, right? Shouldn’t take 3 hrs, i.e. 5am – 8am, right? Well, for some reason it surpasses that. Take this record-breaking morning for instance. Musta finally gotten outta bed at 515am yet I didn’t leave the crib until 750am. Woke up, turned off alarm, brushed teeth, read Bible, did 110 pushups, skipped admiring abs in mirror, stretched, did HIIT while HardTalk was on BBC, read and responded to WhatsApp messages, thought about skipping post-cardio stretches ‘cos body had already cooled down, did measly stretches, dropped soaked socks and underwear in laundry basket, took a long dump while writing in journal, extended dump by reading news articles on phone ranging from Lewis Hamilton’s win at Hockenheim to reason for volatility in oil price to Equalizer 2 topping the US box office and pipping Mama Mia 2 to 2^nd place; discovered it’s also first time where top 8 in US box office have been sequels. Skipped out on an ESPN.com article of how a boxing trainer faked his own death to avoid a murder-for-hire perpetrated by his own wife. Walked to bedroom to drop off phone and journal, returned to bathroom to wipe butt and flush loo, popped mouthwash, showered, spat out mouthwash, followed through with beauty regimen and by this time it was 735am. Was excited I would finally break 8am record so took time to buff shoes, decided on a tie even though yesterday when I picked out work clothes I didn’t choose a tie. It’s almost as if internal clock’s ensuring I waste enough time not to break record. Took extra long blowing self kisses that I was lucky to get outta the crib by 757am. Weird this pas de deux with my mind over a senseless 8am mark, no? Could it be another case of the 41.5 year itch/syndrome? Now I wanna try to get to the office before 8am. Wish me luck.

Tot ziens and God bless.

PS
Tuesday 24^th July 2018: For second day in a row I left the crib before 8am. Seems by keeping this arbitrary target in my head I get to work towards overcoming it. Noticed a weird thing though. Why do I unlock first of two locks as soon as I wake up? Why not unlock door twice when ready to leave the house? Am I saving time by this, same way I reckon I am saving time by unbuttoning work shirt the night before?

Wednesday 25^th July 2018: Woke up earlier after a particularly startling nightmare, and yet I stayed in bed much longer than usual. Woke up t-i-r-e-d. Skipped out on stretching and did HIIT after push-ups. Ended up not leaving the crib until 825am as took time to listen to last night’s monologues of US Late Night shows. Tired of keeping track, man.

This time I am saying no

Hola peeps.

It’s Independence Day in Juba and spending most of it indoors just ‘cos. Surprised myself by doing HIIT exercise even though I slept in. Vacations or public holidays are usually an excuse to skip working out. Lately, everything’s an excuse to avoid working out. You know how I told y’all about mate who said his eye sight seemed to go the minute he clocked 40, well, my eyesight’s still perfect but for the past few months I have noticed otherwise subtle changes in various aspects of my life. Appears my own changes are occurring at 41.5 years.

Take peeing for instance. I am now forced to wear two pairs of underwear whenever I have a work lunch. This measure was enacted after I noticed a mythical strain of pee would always wait until I am done using the bathroom and only drop out after I have put on underwear, tucked shirt into pants and step out into a public space. After first few times of this occurring I attempted to incent pee to fully drop by doing five (5) extra wiggles after peeing; sometimes I would try to trick it by turning on the faucet, so it would think I was washing hands, and slamming the restroom door. But no siree, this pee would rather I wear double drawers so here we are.

Even my dreams have changed. This morning, I woke up in sweats from a nightmare where I was at a public event in an ill-fitting, multi-colored, double-breasted suit. Yup, this is what counts as nightmares these days.

My taste in women’s changed too. Hung with a mate in Nairobi at the end of May and didn’t find his girlfriend attractive one bit. Now, this ain’t like what I expressed to y’all a while back about no longer finding Habesh women attractive; this girl’s fully Kenyan and at various times I had seriously considered poisoning this dude for her. Spent a weekend binge-watching all twelve seasons of Columbo just so I could hide my tracks, and even planned what to say at dude’s funeral to make his girlfriend sob on my shoulders and end up dating me. It was a major surprise when I then saw her and couldn’t be bothered. Couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I found attractive about her in the first place. The only positive from this is my Peter Falk impression that’s been carefully honed from consuming all those Columbo episodes.

Lately, we talking this past week, I have developed a liking for sparkling water. Sparkling water and searching for any excuse to avoid gym workout? I don’t recognise myself anymore! I still work out, don’t get me wrong, but the number of trips away from home in first 6 months of the year really put a damper on enthusiasm for the gym. When work would become monotonous I used to distract myself by pacing around office while feeling abs over my shirt. Others squeeze stress balls, I stroke my abs. Anyways, few months ago I attempted to do same and felt nada. My abs had disappeared! Sob sob. Blame it on all the junk food consumed during trips. I am now actively devoting morning work outs twice a week exclusively to abs. Also researching intermittent fasting to see if that helps.

Yeah, that reminds me. YouTube suggestions are a clear indication the p0wers-that-be are monitoring all we do. Some guy spoke to me about intermittent fasting in Nairobi 3 weeks ago and sent a WhatsApp message about same to a friend a week afterwards, not mentioned it since. Well, what do you think was on YouTube video suggestions last Saturday? Intermittent fasting! A month ago, took up doing 100 pushups every morning and after I took a break from it for a couple of days YouTube suggestion was a video on “what doing a 100 pushups a day does to your body”. Waiting to see if “they” would suggest “importance of red bedsheets to one’s sleeping pattern” if I get cleaning lady to dispose of her favourite sheets. Yup, I am still struggling with that. If only these new changes that have occurred since I clocked 41.5 years could eliminate the “relationship” with Harriett the cleaning lady.

Due to travel schedule I spent all of 3 days in apartment during the month of May and as a friend was visiting Juba I encouraged her to house-sit for me. For an entire month mate informed me Harriett would interchange striped multi-colored to the plain pink bedsheets, but never laid out the red ones. I kid you not. I would call mate from the far corners of Russia just to confound my suspicions, and she’d crack up each time and tease me with, “this cleaning lady only reserves the red bedsheets, she bought as a Valentine’s Day gift, for you”. First week I settled back in Juba the red bedsheets reappeared. A veritable red-letter day…for Harriett. Now I am scared.

Before my last trip outta Juba I received a knock on the door and assumed it was driver coming to take bags to the car. Was still getting dressed so opened door bare-chested and there was Harriett standing there trying her best to keep her gaze on my face. She shoulda been the one embarrassed but I mumbled something about my thinking she was the driver and dashed back into room to put on a vest. I now peek through the peep hole on door before I open it, even if there’s no knock and I am only heading out. Just to reiterate y’all, I am scared I am gonna get so used to her I’ll end up asking for her other hand – since she got married late last year – in marriage.

Oh yeah, my too-complicated-for-its-own-good HP Elite x3 phone crashed for good 3 weeks ago. Woke up late and checked phone to see why alarm did not go off. Found it off and assumed I may have mistakenly turn it off before bed. Turned it on and after booting it displayed a sad face emoji ☹. I kid you not. Multiple efforts to restart it yielded same emoji. Took it to two different phone “specialists” in Juba and none could fix it after a combined 13 days of effort. Before them I attempted to get it resolved myself through the HP online help forum. They requested phone serial number and ‘cos the plastic phone protector had been on for so long it had sorta melded into back of phone and obscured the serial number. As was in the office, I ended up CSI-ing back of phone with oil from head – yup, finally found a use for excess oil secreted by glands on head - and baby powder – don’t ask me what that’s doing in office drawer - trying to get serial number off back of phone. Gave up after an hour of limited success. Thank goodness I found the manual and other relevant papers when I got home. Shall attempt to get it resolved when in the UK next month. If I cannot get it fixed then I’ll finally move on from Windows-OS phones. It started with Nokia Lumia and chose to stick with Windows phones ‘cos of easy synchronisation with work tools. Well, not anymore.

Also noticed I have tended to be less regimented lately. Maybe this 41.5-year thang ain’t so bad after all. Previously, if I woke up late and didn’t have enough time to stretch properly before morning workout I would skip entire workout. Now I go ahead with workout and not fuss about not completing three back stretches. Developed patience for applying post-shave balm on head and facial mask as well.
I have even stopped going for yoga classes on Saturday mornings and sleep-in instead. Same with sticking with Uber as opposed to other ride sharing apps.

Yoga thang wasn’t helped when at the end of last session attended the instructor invited the class to hum, repeat “Krishna”, and said something about opening the third eye. Thought we were just here for stretching, lady. 

The Uber thang was more of a “get them to miss me so much they want me back”. Had used Uber everywhere from Philadelphia to Cairo and never bothered to try an alternative ride sharing apps no matter how many friends and family convinced me otherwise. Recently tried out Taxify in Lagos, Kampala and Nairobi and must say it is cheaper, plus the drivers earn more than on the Uber platform. Reason for the shift mostly had to do with poor service received from an Uber driver in Kampala and the fact I checked my Uber rating and discovered I was a 3.8. You what?! I tip Uber drivers and am polite. How could I not be above a 4.5? Do the drivers know how incredible my abs used to be? Once I discovered my ranking I kept racking head as to why anyone would rank me so low. Even the crap Uber diver from Kampala who dropped me off at an eatery, and in the strangest bit of coincidence was same driver who picked me up after I was done, was given 4 stars. Or maybe it was the entertaining Uber driver from Cairo who complained about his wife’s weight. I’d not have laughed but it was uber – geddit? - funny. Maybe he ranked me poorly ‘cos I laughed so hard?

This being a long weekend in Juba I decided to spend it here instead of travelling somewhere as the pre-41.5-year old Tunde was wont to do. Main reason’s to see if I can spend a month without passing through the airport. Not looking likely as was informed there could be a trip to Kampala in the next two weeks. Haven’t been there since May as other trips have had me transiting through Nairobi. During last two trips to Nairobi I tried out mate’s spa and after the mani+pedi I got a gel nail hardener applied to finger nails. Oh, how they gleamed so! With a gel finish the shine tends to last at least 3 weeks, and until abs return I have taken to doing “jazz hands” in the office when boredom sets in. Others squeeze stress balls, I do jazz hands. During both spa visits I did a body scrub and a massage. So different from Juba where previous experiences at a body scrub have involved a lady using what felt like a scouring sponge on skin. The Nairobi lady used a coffee-based scrub while the one in Juba was probably VIM. There is a new 5-star hotel that recently opened and gonna give their spa treatment a try before I pooh-pooh all Juba’s spa treatments.

Since I turned 41.5 I have become more assertive. Went for a meh massage on Saturday after kickboxing class was cancelled, due to Coach’s illness, then tried out a new mani+pedi place yesterday. After dude was done I ensured he painted over fingernails with clear nail hardener ‘cos I had reminded him earlier I wanted it done. In the past I woulda just assumed dude forgot and not gone back to the place or, if I did, woulda requested someone else. In previous place in Juba I used to get mani+pedi done there was a lady who would always insist they had run outta nail hardener anytime I requested it. Coulda been coincidence, but other ladies always had nail hardener when they worked on me. I reckon she was one of those that deemed it non-masculine to apply nail hardener, but her stance was never strong enough as not to take tips offered by a dude who had requested his nails be painted.

Come to think of it I was hypocritical for judging a dude (who came to my office last week to drop off a job application) for having two fingernails painted bright red. Maybe this 41.5-year itch, or whatever it is, ain’t so bad after all if it teaches me to be more assertive and less judgmental. If only it could help with my Harriett problem.

Tot ziens and God bless.