The Service Chronicles 6: Fatigue

And just like the last time the text that came was from the only man that truly loves me. My bae, my one in a million, he gives me credit and is everywhere I go. His yellow countenance and complexion is his most definitive feature. It was none other than my yellow bobo; MTN.

Dejectedly I dropped my phone who also happens to be my bestie. Off to bed to physically prepare for what I didn’t know would be a torrible (terrible+horrible) Monday. 

I rose bright (not so bright it was 5:50 AM) and early to the sound of Ada yelling in consonance to the clanging of the bell “it’s time for Morning devotion” and in my head I sighed more than a million times. Heck I got up, trudged to church and just went through the motions. After devotion I tried to get water for a bath but no, Ilorin just has to be dry socially and weatherly (I’m not sure that is a real word). I have never seen such extreme water scarcity conditions not even when I schooled in Sagamu. 

As our buckets lined in front of a tank that trickled water God sent down the rain. I am sad to say I did what you suspect. I had my bath with rain water, I had pledged not to do it again after the hundredth time of bathing with rain water but what could a girl have done, I really had no choice. It was either rain water or no bath and I’d rather bathe with sandy-rain-water-that-requires-extreme-sieving than not bathe at all. Nobody should judge me o. I’m sure we are all guilty of playing naked in the rain and doing worse things with rain water.

Having done all that was necessary, I stepped out to do my recording of those stupid figures. This stupid recording experience has only succeeded in making me hate maths more. To school I marched and faced those booklets. Sixty five of them recorded in less than three hours; such a great accomplishment. This I did on an empty stomach. I proceeded to the Local Government office to write my name for something I have no understanding of. I spent one hundred naira to go and write eighteen letters including my signature. Rushed to the house of a friend; Ola to drop my CDS card and fled back to them dreaded booklets. By Four thirty I was done, thoroughly exhausted and defeated and still all I had eaten was three packets of Beloxxi and one Big Lemon. I was famished. For a person that loves food I had gone too long without a proper meal and my stomach was beginning to fan my temper and my impatience was ready to start dancing on my head. I was really frustrated.

Went to Shoprite to get some pretty mugs and this people gave me ten Naira change in coins. Omashe o! Headed back home and did the slides of Churchill’s VS (lodge program). This particular program happens almost every night, a member of the outgoing batch gets interrogated by the house and I create the slides that display their bio and pictures. Now this was a tricky night because it was Churchill’s turn to be interrogated. Churchill is the kinda guy that girls usually like, and me that cannot help it when somebody is tall, dark, and handsome (yes I follow that stereotype) and smart too could not resist being drawn to him. So we became close and this was the night he would be asked very sensitive questions especially as he has a girlfriend and is tight buddies with me and other girls too. This is why the fuss that was being caused about us was completely unreasonable.

Luckily for me the person who normally asks the questions that can make a person squirm had gone to make noodles for me, so she couldn’t ask him about his relationship with me, which I have to say is a serious one. It is seriously platonic.  The night went fairly nice and then the executive board had a meeting which I happen to be on. I have to say something at this point. It is like I have been cursed to be responsible in this life. Everywhere I go I manage to find responsibility thrust on me, the other day at CDS I narrowly escaped being an executive. Not that I don’t like it but can’t a girl aspire to be reckless at a certain stage in her almost boring life.

Anywho the meeting went by fast, maybe this is because I spent a great part of it eating my noodles that were completely soggy and white. Nothing worse than soggy noodles I tell you. But in the state I was in if you had given me sand and said it  a kind of salad that is indigenous to people that live in the Sahara (do people live in the Sahara?) I would have considered guzzling it.

After the meeting I dragged my weary container of a body to a bed and collapsed on it.  In my sleepy hazy state I heard the words “don’t mind her, she’s always with that nonsense boy” and somewhere in my mind I seriously tried to stay awake to do amebo but sleep wanted to possess me so I let it do just that.

But seriously you guys should drop comments
Nkem Oyaghire