Bad start – good ending

So today got off  to a great start, not  huge fan of getting up in the dark, I was a bit grumpy and bleary this morning. I’m a person who really needs lots of daylight and sunshine, getting up in the dark just isn’t natural.

Preparing my yummy diet milk shake for breakfast, I picked up a bottle of milk fresh off the doorstep,  it was still wet from the fine rain that had been gently falling, it most definitely felt like autumn today but in a grim, cold, drizzly grey way, not a bit like yesterdays golden day. Anyway, back to the plot:

The bottle slipped from my grasp and smashed onto our kitchen floor, milk and glass went everywhere, including all over my favourite boots. Deep sodding joy.

Cleaning it all up made me late for my dance lesson so I ran out of the house, snatching up all the stuff I needed for the day along the way, drove up the track at breakneck speed only to get to the top and realised that I’d left my milk shake, the one that caused all the trauma, on the dining room table. Bloody hell!!!!

I practically did a handbreak turn, scattering a few jay walking hens along the way, and drove back home muttering curses to milk shakes everywhere for making me late.

What?  Not the milkshake’s fault?

Of course it was the milkshake’s fault, I’d have had plenty of time if it hadn’t made me drop  the stupid  milk bottle.

the container it was in has one of this flip top lids on it so you can drink on the go. I’m not a big fan of those, I gave up sucking on teats when I was still a baby and haven’t really felt the need to resume the practice. they do have their uses though (the containers with the  flippy lid, not teats – although they have their uses as well).

Swigging away at my, lumpy as I hadn’t shaken it enough, milkshake I managed to misjudge the ‘swig to speed bump’ timing and ended up with milkshake all over my face and clothes. Jeez!   Motorists passing on the other side of the road looked at me horrified as I looked like I was covered in vomit. Now there’s a difficult look to do well.

Our dance lesson was a load of pants with both me and Boofuls forgetting stuff here, there and everywhere. If our teacher hadn’t been there to mediate we would likely have come to blows.  It didn’t help because our teacher wasn’t in the best mood either as he was in the throes of a nose bleed and spent most of the lesson with his hanky/fingers up his nostrils. Nice.

At this point I could go into a MAJOR rucking fant about a client we are supposed to working for in November, I’m getting the run around and I don’t like it. If you have changed your mind at least have the grace to tell me instead of playing silly buggers. No, you can’t have the deposit back.  I kept today clear for her as she said she wanted a meeting but she didn’t confirm the date, return my  calls or reply to messages. GROW UP!!!  You cost me an afternoon with bezzy mate!

The exhaust on my car is threatening to fall off but in order to cheer myself up a bit I decided that  I would risk a quick jaunt up the motorway to Boundary Mill. Boundary Mill is a massive store. Sometimes you can pick up loads of bargains, other times you can find sweet fanny adams – and that’s how this morning was turning out. Becoming more and more dejected at the rails of beautiful clothing in sizes 8 and 22 but nothing in between, I plodded into the M&S outlet concession.

On the clearance rail in the clearance shop was a whole section of items that is exactly how I’d like my wardrobe to look. I grabbed  item after item off the rails like I was a contestant on supermarket sweep.  None of the other shoppers got a look in as I elbowed them out of the way to get to the lovely jewel colours in the sea of grey, white and black. ‘Hey! I’ve been covered in milk twice today already and I’m starting to smell a bit sour. Don’t mess with me!’

So much nice stuff! So cheap! So Per Una!

I know, it’s a bit sad that I’ve turned into Mrs M & S but it was at least Per Una and I did get some fantastic jeans for £2.50!  Along with a mountain of other stuff, I won’t bore you with the details.

Driving back, exhaust rattling like a rattly thing and threatening to detach at any moment, I was positively chirpy.  I made a short detour to pick up Mrs Woofy and spent a lovely hour in her company telling her all about my traumatic morning. She’s a terribly good listener.

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