I finished work at midday today, it should have been 10am but I spent 2 hours fighting a seemingly losing battle with the clinical team. I got soaked to the skin heading to my car, then the electric gates decided they didn't want me to start my weeks leave and refused to open. Reaching home at 1.30pm I find the dog has managed to shut himself in the dining room and took all the paint of the lower part of the door off in a vain bid for freedom ( teenager still in bed oblivious to it all ). There is a pile of washing that looks like I have decided to open a chinese laundry ( daughter decided to gut her bedroom, dressing room and ensuite - apparently unaware of the concept of rehanging clothes, much easier to toss them all in the laundry in a heap). The cat left a gift on the doormat - I won't go in to detail. And the list goes on........
Taking a deep breath and trying to ignore the growling in my stomach that was telling me I hadn't eaten for 18 hours, I put the kettle on. Guess what? The darned thing sparked and died, the fusebox objected and I had to go back out into the rain to fetch the ladders from the garage to climb up and switch the electrics back on.
I'm sorry to say folks, at this point I caved. I put the hob kettle on the gas to make myself a cup of tea and made 4 thick rounds of toast with Butter on it. And the day just got worse and worse. I have eaten a lump of cheese and I don't know how many rye crackers and drunk most of a bottle of chablis. The day has been a total write-off. I feel miserable and mad as hell with myself.
I haven't weighed myself because I don't think I could handle it today if the display flashed the wrong way.
Poop, poop, poop. ππ«π