There are the days when you wake up and feel like you slept on a little fluffy cloud. These are they days where everything goes as expected; you might as well have had little blue song birds helping you adorn your favourite outfit, which is clean (...and ironed!) and looks fabulous, I have to say.
You’re thinking “What days? What’s she talking about?” Those days do happen and more often than you think, unfortunately, your memory swallows them and deposits them right at the bottom of your brain, right underneath the heavy-duty bin bag full of "bollock days”. But the best thing about "that bollock of a day" is it gives you something entertaining to write about.
The central heating was blaring, unnecessarily, and the shower had been running on boiling for 15 minutes before I had even managed to get undressed. The vital undressing had been delayed by screaming/pooing/ squabbling/falling/biting/ children. Blissfully, inside the shower all was quiet so I just stood there for far too long, enjoying the muffled peace. When I finally got round to slapping conditioner on my hair, the lovely stream of hot dramatically cut to god-damn-freezing cold, my first thought was: "shit what have done?"
This led to me rinsing the slab of conditioner out with painfully cold water and then running to stand naked and dripping and f-f-f-freezing in front of the boiler. Which said nothing. It just looked dead. No light. No numbers. No noise. Nothing.
What to do? I ring Future Husband. Leave urgent message. Get dressed. Get kids. Leave house. I then spent the day flitting between play groups, relatives' houses, park etc.
A couple of hours later I pick up my mobile to discover a number of missed calls, texts and voice messages from The FH, asking me technical things like [what did the error code say?] so I start to reply, in text, [There wasn't an error code. There was nothing. Like someone had just switched it off.] This is the point when I remember the switch, next to the plug, outside the bathroom... and the youngest child's recent fascination with plugs. This is the point I delete the text message and write [I didn't check the switch near plug. I think I might be a dickhead.]
Later, on the school run I got myself tangled up walking along with someone I didn't know very well. I was struggling for conversation, whilst the children ran ahead, not helping me out at all. Suddenly into my head pops, an image of her ex-daughter-in-law from the previous day. When I had seen this person I had had one of those moments when I thought "Is she pregnant? Isn't she pregnant?" But I was wise to this conundrum, I'd learnt the hard way - you DON'T ask, you wait for a reliable source (preferably the expecting mother) to confirm if they are. Or otherwise, like me, you can ask their ex-mother-in-law? *raises hand to heaven in despair*
Her answer was "No! Not that I know of any way!" She then went very quiet, as I tried to dig myself out of a hole whilst the earth continued to tumble on top of me. Conclusively, if she is, or isn't, I've made sure I'm not very popular.
The rest of the day was spent trying to shake that horrible angst feeling, which was clinging to the cuffs of my trousers, because of the two stupid things I'd done.
How to shake it off? Do a final stupid thing which blows the other two out of the water? Ok then.
I locked myself out. Well... I locked myself out and the locked in the spare keys which usually reside at my parents’ house. Actually… I locked myself out, locked spare keys in, then convinced myself I had left back door open when hanging the washing out. This then snowballed into a series of cringe worthy events:
- standing on a wheelie bin in the alley to see if I could get over the wall (I couldn't - too short and too wide). While stood on bin a passer-by asked if I needed help "Yes could you just help me burgle this house?" On a positive note I can't look like a criminal.
- asking neighbours (who I barely know) if I could climb over their wall, involving said neighbour helping me get over the wall and a BBQ collapsing under my weight
- discovering my back door was actually locked
- sheepishly, after making such a hoo-ha, having to go back into neighbour’s yard to retrieve a pot of chives that my clumsy self had knocked into his yard
- the Future Husband having to make an hour trip to deliver me his set of keys
So all in all – everything went well, I must have had little blue song birds helping me dressed or something. Sorry if it wasn’t very entertaining to read about though!