6.10 AM. "Wakey Wakey" spoke the little bag of Oat-So-Simple as I grabbed it out of the box. Alright, it didn't speak, but the announcement was in big bold letters. "Aye, wakey bloody wakey" I replied and ripped it apart, drowned it in milk and microwaved it for two minutes, before scoffing it warm. That'll teach it to be so pedantic. And it was yummy, I have to admit. Our cat Bumbleina agreed, licking the bowl clean. Having this sort-of-porridge in the morning reminds me of my days at secondary school, where I used to eat Brinta before cycling 10 miles to school with my dad and wee sister. It reminds me also of feeling quite stuffed and bloated with it, but thankfully Oat-So-Simple agrees with me better.

Tuesday morning however, does not agree with me. First of all, I noticed I didn't have enough change in my wallet to get a bus ticket. Walking to the ATM at the garage, the needed bus of course passed me on the road. Had I had the change, I had had the bus. I bought the Guardian and chewing gum to tear my tenner into pound coins, trawled to the bus stop and stood still. First buses 8 have a slogan on them, stating "Every ten minutes or better" but it should be "Every ten minutes? You should know better." I stood for twenty minutes. The bus then took thirty five minutes to get to town, where it normally takes ten less. Really, I should sue First Buses for sabotage - it's not decent anymore. As a result, I had missed my connection to the Stagecoach 104 as well as the slower alternative, the 43. I wasn't looking forward to grabbing another 43 bus at a quarter to eight, so I decided on a taxi. It overtook the 104 bus on its way to Wythenshawe, but I didn't fancy asking the mute driver to drop me off at a bus stop to save me £5. I got to the office five past eight or so - not bad considering I only start at half eight. If I could start early, I could re-coup some of the taxi money. There were plenty of people queueing on the phone lines..

However, things got progressively more annoying. Last week Friday morning my PC had crashed and a colleague replaced it while I worked at a different desk. On Monday morning I noticed the replacement PC was 'disabled' on the office network, so I got that sorted - and in between taking calls at my temporary desk tried to install the necessary software on it. Today, I thought it'd be ready for use, but after a successful logon and starting a few programs, it froze. I spent some time trying to fix it but barged to my temporary desk soon enough. "Sorry Sander," I told my deputy team leader, "I won't be starting early, it would appear." He didn't say anything, possibly because of my thin lips, flaring nostrils and red eyes. Thankfully I could take my first phone call at half eight.. "Can you blah blah blah? I know you blah's blah bla'd for a colleague of mine, and I need the same treatment on my PC." I answered I had no idea what he was on about and things got progressively worse from then on. Again. Then my coach popped up and advised I shouldn't always go the extra mile for the customers, as it's affecting the statistics of my performance. You could bet on no one gaining an extra mile today.

Though this is becoming a long blog entry, it's nowhere near as long as this Tuesday. In the afternoon, I got good news via my girlfriend though: the mail has arrived, and GTA San Andreas is among it. I might just grab a virtual flame thrower and kill a lot of virtual people agoningly slowly tonight.