Today I opened one eye to look at my alarm clock and realised that I had hit snooze in my sleep, twice, and overslept. It’s not the greatest way to start the day – flying out of bed, hair looking like something even Mary-Kate Olsen would be proud of, one bed sock on, one bed sock off, making a mad dash for the shower before New Housemate gets up.
And, to tell you the truth, I am still struggling to turn my day around. I got on a bus – there were two to choose from and I chose the slowest one, which had a snogging couple who sat beside me at the back, willing everyone to stare at them.
I chose the wrong stop to get off at – getting stuck in a whole heap of traffic with a bus driver who wouldn’t open the doors between stops, even though every car in a 500-metre radius was at a standstill.
I chose the wrong shoes, too – now ruined from my hurrying through a puddle. My flares are also a little bit soggy as a result, too.
If I were Pollyanna, I’d have played the Glad Game by now – I’d have made myself glad that I got the extra sleep, glad that the existence of love, or at the very least, lust, was proved to me on the bus, glad that I got to stay in the warmth of the bus a little bit longer, and glad that…
Um, no – I cannot be glad about puddles!
Deafinitely Girly needs something to make her day.
Suggestions on a postcard please…