After yet another run (I timed myself. It looked promising, considering my thighs were aching and the terrain was uneven. I should be able to get a B for 2.4 now, easily – but my personal target is 10.59, because being in the 10s just sounds that much more awesome than being in the 11s.), I went back home and the doorbell started to ring every second or so, which was freaky, because I opened the door three times and NO ONE WAS THERE. (seriously, was expecting at least a troupe of brazen Mas Selamats holding up paper balls with spikes attached to them, because according to the 3847235875 police reports he was last seen in a cloning machine with a paper ball)
The doorbell was spoilt. And it was pissing me off. A bath, a curt SMS to Mom (doorbell spoilt, irritating, going somewhere to do work) and I left.
And that’s why I’m here, the McDonalds along Ave 6, armed with but my trusty MacBook and a few cans of tuna and solid fuel. I’ve signed up for a Wireless@SG account. There are ads lining the bottom of my window now, but it’s okay, because Internet is priceless.
And if I have dinner at Macs, I would have had breakfast, lunch and dinner at Macs today. Freaky.