Just after I came home yesterday, I realized my office key wasn’t in my pocket. Normally, right after opening my office door, I put my key back in my pocket but, for some reason, this time I hadn’t. The office I work from used to be a commentators booth at the stadium. This means that some of these offices have windows from where you can look into the room next to you. So this morning, from the office right next to mine, I could see my key laying on my desk.
After having to write a memo to my ‘boss’, a locksmith was called. There was no spare key on the premises. An hour later or so, he arrived and opened my door. Since administration realized having a spare key to my office seemed reasonable, the locksmith was sent off again and was supposed to return later, with my keys. He didn’t show up.
As a result, I read a novel most of the day.

Over the weekend, some soccer players died in a car crash, driving from Harare to Bulawayo. Today, there was a ceremony which took the funerary procession to the stadium, before heading for the cemeteries the players were going to be buried at. I didn’t know, at first, but was confronted with the festivities while I was reading my book, inside the stadium.

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