Oh time, you most elusive of concepts. Why must you tantalise me with the impression that I can manage you? My influence upon you is indefinite at best; I am a mere apprentice in the time-keeping stakes. Oh, and as well as trying to do too much at once, not paying attention to how fast you are flitting by, and trying to overcome my natural inclination to laziness; I am a working Mum. Yes, Father Time, it is true that you and I will never find ourselves in accord, particularly if this morning was anything to go by.
I always believe it’s not a good idea to combine too many new projects in the one day. It seems to be the best method for having time work against you. Take this morning – first day back at school, first day of hubby’s new server for his website being operational, first day of my new job. I was slightly dubious that things would run smoothly but had planned for every eventuality, or so I thought.
7.30AM – Hubby leaves for work. Leaves keys behind. My son lets me know while I am in the middle of blow-drying my hair. I run up to the bus stop with half-wet hair and my trainers on.
7.40AM – Son wants to watch TV while eating his cereal. This is usually a no-no but I feel sorry for him, it being first day back at school and all. He spills the entire bowl on the newly steam-cleaned rug. Frantically, I mop up the mess with a roll of paper towels which unravel and get tangled around the armchair leg. Unbeknownst to me, the hem of my skirt has been sitting in a pool of milk. Later on I will learn that it looks as if I have wet myself and left it to dry.
8.00AM – My sister rings from North Carolina, asking if I would consider visiting for Christmas. I tell her funds do not allow and that I really will have to ring her back as I have to go to work. I can tell by her change of tone that she thinks I am making that up and that the truth is that I don’t want to tallk to her. I promise her I will ring back and that this time I will work out the time difference properly and not call her at three in the morning.
8.20AM – Hubby rings asking if I could email him some files we were working on over the weekend. I tell him I am running really late and he will have to wait.
8.25AM – Make school lunch, pack lunch box, pack schoolbag. Make sure son has brushed his teeth, put his sunscreen on and is wearing his hat. Sign permission slip and find an envelope for this term’s basketball lessons.
8.40AM – Finish getting ready. Realise hair is beyond help, decide to tie it back in a ponytail, ruining the sleek, efficient look I was going for. Feed goldfish, lock up and walk to school.
8.50AM – Kiss son goodbye as bell rings, begin 10 minute walk to work. Meet 3 people I know on the way, including my dear friend’s grandmother who is walking her dog and is always good for at least a half hour chat. Make my excuses and break into a run, realising I only have 4 minutes left to get to work. Make a mental note to change my route tomorrow to avoid bumping into anyone I know.
8.59AM – Arrive at work red-faced and panting. Uriah Heep, the Personal Assistant of my new boss, is there to greet me. “Mr. Monkford isn’t keen on sneakers,” he says, eyeing the footwear I forgot to change out of. “Also, I think you have something on your skirt.”
Last time I had this much fun I was on Percodan three times a day for a hip injury (long story.) Can’t wait to do it all again tomorrow. Oh, Father Time, you are a harsh task-master indeed!