I have been struggling to get out of bed the last few days, when the alarm goes off the room is still murky with a slight nip in the air, whilst my bed is toasty warm with Americo in it.
Yesterday my alarm buzzed into action and I pressed snooze, once, twice… after that I must have lost consciousness. When I resurfaced, I woke with a feeling of contentment, safe and happy and - WHAT - five minutes before I had to leave the house!
I leapt out of bed, raced to the bathroom, frantically brushing my teeth whilst scouring the cupboard for something to wear. Obviously not something in need of an iron.
Americo meanwhile briefly raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, before pulling the duvet more securely under his chin and mumbling “mm, late too”. Clearly not!
I (just) managed to get my self dressed, dashing out the house in record time, with a vague resemblance to Cruella DeVille - minus the fur.
LATE! But not late enough not to grab a mocha chilla (my new addiction) from the coffee shop.
By now I was seriously late; rushing to the office whilst attempting to juggle my mocha chilla, umbrella and handbag – when my phone rang. It was an employment friend of mine who I wanted to ask a favour of, so I couldn’t exactly rush things.
Eventually I made it into the office only to see that everyone was in the boardroom. Bollocks! Forgot all about the 9 o’clock meeting. Who in their right mind books a meeting for 9am?? Clearly ridiculous morning people! Or the Australian…..
After all the excitement of the morning my day settled into an impression of normality. I say impression as things are not really normal – for instance, I don’t usually have my resume floating about the ether in the hopes of snagging some fabulous job … elsewhere. Anyhow, we do what we need to do, hmm?
By the time 5.30pm rolled by the day had disintegrated, weather wise, with pouring rain and huge puddles. St Pauls, the tube station, was flooded with people, everyone being a little more cautious as umbrellas dripped, creating a slick mess on the floor.
To say I was thankful to be going home would be an understatement. I was thrilled to be almost home; moments from the door I was already creating a list of priorities - out of the rain, out of sopping trousers, into nice hot bath ……….. cigarette.
Propping my umbrella up against the wall I scratched about in my bag for the keys. Hmm? More scrabbling – nothing.
In desperation I emptied the bag onto the front step then sat down next to the upended contents, rolled a cigarette and thought “sod it; I’ve left my keys in the house!”
Yesterday my alarm buzzed into action and I pressed snooze, once, twice… after that I must have lost consciousness. When I resurfaced, I woke with a feeling of contentment, safe and happy and - WHAT - five minutes before I had to leave the house!
I leapt out of bed, raced to the bathroom, frantically brushing my teeth whilst scouring the cupboard for something to wear. Obviously not something in need of an iron.
Americo meanwhile briefly raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, before pulling the duvet more securely under his chin and mumbling “mm, late too”. Clearly not!
I (just) managed to get my self dressed, dashing out the house in record time, with a vague resemblance to Cruella DeVille - minus the fur.
LATE! But not late enough not to grab a mocha chilla (my new addiction) from the coffee shop.
By now I was seriously late; rushing to the office whilst attempting to juggle my mocha chilla, umbrella and handbag – when my phone rang. It was an employment friend of mine who I wanted to ask a favour of, so I couldn’t exactly rush things.
Eventually I made it into the office only to see that everyone was in the boardroom. Bollocks! Forgot all about the 9 o’clock meeting. Who in their right mind books a meeting for 9am?? Clearly ridiculous morning people! Or the Australian…..
After all the excitement of the morning my day settled into an impression of normality. I say impression as things are not really normal – for instance, I don’t usually have my resume floating about the ether in the hopes of snagging some fabulous job … elsewhere. Anyhow, we do what we need to do, hmm?
By the time 5.30pm rolled by the day had disintegrated, weather wise, with pouring rain and huge puddles. St Pauls, the tube station, was flooded with people, everyone being a little more cautious as umbrellas dripped, creating a slick mess on the floor.
To say I was thankful to be going home would be an understatement. I was thrilled to be almost home; moments from the door I was already creating a list of priorities - out of the rain, out of sopping trousers, into nice hot bath ……….. cigarette.
Propping my umbrella up against the wall I scratched about in my bag for the keys. Hmm? More scrabbling – nothing.
In desperation I emptied the bag onto the front step then sat down next to the upended contents, rolled a cigarette and thought “sod it; I’ve left my keys in the house!”
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