Hmmmm, I could walk to work, I thought to myself. But look at the weather, it's a bit miserable... But I am up early and it would do me good... But look at the weather....
So I lay, wide awake, in bed for a further 40 minutes before getting up and going about my usual pre-work routine.
Put on a rather weird outfit from my "Only clothes that fit me" range and a pair of boots, and set off towards the bus stop without a coat because it wasn't raining. And I couldn't be bothered to find one.
Got to the cash machine to draw out some money for the bus and get some milk for essential office-worker tea drinking.
Transaction NOT processed.
Insufficient funds.
Perhaps you should have thought about this before buying that bottle of Valpolicella on Friday.
(I added the last bit but it was obvious that was what the machine was thinking)
Brilliant. So it was now 15 minutes before I was due to start work and I would now have to walk the two miles to get there - and not even be able to look forward to a cup of tea when I arrived. And then it started spitting.
Got to work late, knackered and clammy.
My boss went out to a meeting and I took the opportunity to stand in front of the fan in a bid to dry myself off a bit. No joy. And now I was freezing.
The past couple of days I have been tidying out our enormous store cupboard and come across all manner of historical artifact and over-zealous stationery ordering. Floppy discs, typewriter ribbon, box files from 1996, a million treasury tags, overhead projector sheets, 8 squillion bulldog clips of varying sizes, and boxes full of merchandise.
I was convinced there would be an old company T Shirt knocking about somewhere so had a good old rummage around but to no avail. Short of fashioning a new top out of post-it notes, I had to do what all women have done at some point or other: Go into the toilets and stretch my top out underneath the hand dryer in the hope of drying off and warming up.
So I was in a bad mood then because I knew I would have to walk home again and really could not be bothered. At least it wasn't raining any more.
I set off at home time and sent Mr G a stroppy text because after all, this was all his fault.
I crossed the road outside work and remembered that the boots had given me massive blisters on the trot down this morning. Grrrrrrrr.
Every step I took made me get increasingly annoyed and move more and more dramatically, like an amputee trying out their prosthetic limb for the first time.
Suddenly I remembered, I stayed at the Mothership over the weekend and had a little pair of slippers in my bag. Could I.......?
The answer was yes, I could. I lasted a mile before I could take it no more, sat down on the side of the road and yanked off my boots and replaced them with some bright red slippers.
And what?
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