Fifth

Carter's difficult day

I forgot I had a driving lesson again. I got a call at 8.20 when I was in my pants, watching TV. I had to pretend I hadn't forgotten, so I ran into the shower, took a tartrazine piss and jumped in my clothes. I didn't brush my teeth, and I didn't take my customary shit, so I felt pretty bad in the car. I also couldn't find my glasses case, but I decided I would wear my specs all day and that would be fine.

Driving lesson was OK, Gus, my instructor gave me an extra 20 minutes on the end and I had a lovely time sailing around London with dual control insurance.

Then I realised I didn't have my work pass, which cocked up lunch because I phoned my lunch buddies during an emotional office address and neither of them could answer. I couldn't buy lunch on site without my card, so I went up the road. Then it started to rain hard, and I had to hide in a doorway and missed the chance to photograph a really top-drawer mad woman in her skirt and socks.

Then I went to a sandwich shop and my lens fell out of my glasses. But I've got no glasses case, this one day of my life, so I have to spend the rest of the day with my broken goggles in my hand, squinting at people to make out their features.

By this time I was pretty stinky, with my cursory wash and missing my shit and all. I always smell bad when I miss that morning shit. Much worse from the right armpit than the left, too. I had to keep my anorak zipped up to keep the smell in.

Then, with no glasses still, I watched Inland Empire, a pretty gruelling three-hour film by David Lynch. Really great, by the way, but it felt like a busy end to a busy day, brainwise.