Not as clever as you might think

Date: 5 August.

Location: Emporia, Myer's pretentious little coffee shop on Little Bourke.

If I had a licence to practise as an adult it would have been revoked yesterday. I would have had to hand in my car keys and supply of Shiraz.

The day begun as my alarm shrilled at an ungodly hour so that I could prepare for and make a call with a senior partner in a Singaporean law firm at '9am, Singapore time'. It was only after I groggily dialled and hit voicemail that I recalled that Singapore is 2 hours behind Melbourne. Not 2 hours in front.

In the 4 hours I suddenly had to spare, I made myself breakfast: what the local French cafe calls 'omelette aux fines herbes', and I call 'eggs with whatever is growing on my windowsill and seems bushy today'. As I added my precious (and pretentious) Himalyanan pink salt to the finished product the top of the salt sellar came loose and salt went everywhere. $6 salt gone. Omelette ruined. No more eggs left in my fridge. I made porridge.

My laptop wouldn't turn on. This may or may not be directly related to the fact that 2am Alex had left it on the floor next to her bed after a late night Torchwood binge, thinking that 7am Alex would be smart enough not to step on it. 7am Alex was not so smart, and has quite the potty mouth on her.

I received a not-so-pleasant text message from the Department of Human Services notifying me that I'd missed a vital appointment at their offices — which I hadn't — and to call a certain number — which I (huffily) did. The estimated wait time was 65 minutes, which was frustrating but not cataclysmic as (as previously discussed) I had a bit of spare time that morning. So I set the phone on speaker, tried not to start humming along to the waiting muzak and set to doing some ironing. An hour (and one iron burn) later when Derek asked how he could help me today, I (stopped humming and) reached for the phone. Only to promptly hang up on him. “Thank you for calling the Department of Human Services. Your estimated wait time is 85 minutes…”

If the universe is having a laugh after I declared last week that I 'love' Tuesdays, can it please stop now?




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