The day started badly. I managed to sleep through my alarm clocks (yes that is plural and yes I had forwarded them to BST and everything).
Accordingly when I woke up and glanced at the clock I realised it was 8am and I was very L.A.T.E.
However it just goes to show that you can shower, dress, dry your hair, apply some mascara and be out the house in 15 minutes flat if you really have to.
Especially if you don’t pause too long to consider the latest in the ‘why is the hall carpet wet? Maybe that explains why my central heating system is losing pressure?’ saga.
Halfway down the motorway the rain starts lashing down.
I note that the dashes of water in the passenger footwell, suggest my house isn’t the only thing with a leak.
Being late, I have to park miles away and as I struggle in through the gale my new (super cheap admittedly, but lovely and large) umbrella is bent to buggery by the wind and by the time I make it to the buildings, I’m wet from head to toe, my hair is soaked and windswept beyond the point of amusement and the umbrella is fit only for the rubbish bin.
I look like a drowned rat. A very pissed off, drowned rat.
Halfway through the morning I twist and bend to retrieve a file from a low cupboard. Snap! That be one of my underwires in the old bra grabbed in a hurry this morning, snapped then…
After an hour of trying to ignore the sharp jagged edges of metal digging into my chest, I repair to the loos with a pair of nail scissors. Ah relief at last.
Concerned that my puppies will be asymmetrical I consult the mirror. Not too bad thankfully. In fact I start to wonder how much of a necessity those bloody wires are anyway.
Any chance the week will get better d’you think?
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