I’m in this awkward situation where there’s only one train I can catch which gets me all the way home (via a bus connection). If I miss the 5:49pm out of Southern Cross Station, I currently have to ... *sigh* ... get my mother to drive for 35 minutes to collect me from the middle of nowhere. Would you like that? No, you wouldn’t. And I bet you’re not 39, either.
Furthermore, if I miss that train I also get home too late to put my 3-year-old son to bed. It means I don’t see him at all that day. Missing a train by 1 minute (as I did on Monday) means there’s a 48 hour break from one ‘Hi, lad’ to the next. And that’s assuming I catch the train the next day.
To get the 5:49pm I need to leave Neighbours around 5:15pm. And therein lies the problem: the Neighbours day doesn’t end at 5:15pm. For the third consecutive day I’ve had to slink out of a wild and wonderful script meeting with my tail between my legs. Nothing could be more fucked. Tonight I got called on it: “This can’t keep happening.”
I know that. I totally know that. And it won’t keep happening. I’ll buy a second car, and I won’t need the bus connection at all.
And I won’t see my son all week.
I have to face the fact I’ve never suffered for my art. It was going to happen sooner or later.
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