...hands on me...

Alright.
Here goes tomatoes, fellows. (Nakula, A., 2008)

TWO major surprises fell down from nowhere and greeted me good morning today.

Surprise ONE: My first ever copy of The Sunday Age arrived on my doorstep.

And it apparently brought along one of its stack-mates with it, since there were two disheveled rolls of identical editions lying down next to each other just near the edge of my front door. Two, instead of one.

BONUS? Don't think so.
Or maybe this is just the newspaper-guy's way of saying sorry for not delivering weekend papers for the past, I dunno, four weeks? *grins* But I guess I can always use some spare papers in times of need.

Alright. One item scratched.
As I was saying...

As cold and shivery and ridiculously-still-sunny a morning as this day's early hours could be, I thought it was just gonna be the beginning of another ordinarily windy Autumn sunday, one in which I happened to be rostered a singer in the afternoon service.

That would mean waking up at like 9.30-ish in the morning to avoid being late to the music practice, giving me some time to enjoy a cuppa coffee with no rush, and of course browse the day's weather forecast as I always do to help decide on what crazy outfit to wear. *laughs*

Then I would drowsily amble my way to the shower, yawn a little, stretch a little, rub eyes a little, scratch head a little, you know, the usual lousy stuff a guy does before morning shower. Finishing touch would be grabbing my always-trustworthy green towel from its stand on the way, and once the shower room door is locked behind me, the rest is history.

But then something really shocking disrupted my too-good-too-be-true peaceful Sunday morning routine.
A massive thunderbolt, talking the voice of MelMel, got through my cellphone and reminded me that Daylight Saving Time wasn't on today.

And I was like, WHAT?!

That would mean that the big ol' TEN displayed on my cellphone screen was actually a painful ONE and ONE. Eleven something would mean music practice. And music practice at eleven something would mean lateness.

Upon that sudden realization, this following equation immediately came to mind:

Extreme lateness to music practice + Haven't memorized the assigned songs = Merciless murder by Teguh

Oh NO. *gasps*

So I gulped down the remaining lot of my coffee, grabbed up my towel, rushed to heat up my supposedly-prepared-in-advance breakfast, then ran into the shower.
The rest was again history, though not as good as my expected picture perfect of a lazy Sunday morning.

The remaining parts of the day were fabulous, though.
So I guess the morning shock paid off with a BANG. *winks*

And that marks the official end of this too-awfully-short Easter Break.
Classes commence tomorrow. Campus life is so back on. And the weather's been great. I guess Summer's now officially gone for another year.

*rummages through wardrobe for Autumn clothes*

G'nite, guys. *hugs*