I’ve mentioned before that I think, somehow, my job knows when I’m about to start something and manages to conjure up a booking. But I’m even more convinced after today.
I woke up this morning when Carole’s alarm went off, because I enjoy the Google voice telling me the time and, depending how quickly Carole can get to it, elements of the day’s news and/or weather. I felt like crap. My head was absolutely pounding. I was not a happy bunny.
So I drifted in and out of sleep while Caz got ready for work and dozed off when she left. I awoke again a bit later, and still felt rotten. I was still nursing a pounding head, and every time I thought I was alright, it would really stick the boot in. Coupled with that, I was feeling sick which led me to believe it was some sort of migraine. So I was, as you can imagine, super bloody happy.
I padded downstairs and took some tablets and then padded back upstairs to bed where I slept for about an hour or so.
I still felt shitty, but less shitty. Still sick, though. Which was exciting, but I wondered if that might be the tablets – despite them never, ever making me feel like that before.
So I sat downstairs nursing a drink, with the curtains pulled, for a little bit. I started to feel better, of sorts, and was just working out all the stuff I needed to do today – make tea, change beds, iron stuff. I even got as far as opening the recipe book ready to crack on with the culinary adventures.
“I’ll just have a few more minutes sitting here,” I thought to myself. And then I’ll crack on when it gets to 11. It’s always nice to start things on an hour, then you can always provide an accurate measure of exactly how long a job took you when you’re fishing for compliments, praise or sympathy later.
So obviously my bloody phone beeps, right then. Bosh. Shift at work. Need to leave in an hour.
It knows. Somehow. We have sentient escape rooms. That’s the only explanation. Who believes in coincidences anymore? Judging by the majority of the internet, absolutely no-one. So It can’t have been a coincidence.
It must be a higher power manipulating my life and trying to stop me getting things done. For some reason. I’m not sure what affect a tasty, vegetable-heavy bolognaise could have on the way of the world, but clearly it was too powerful to make in the late morning.
I’m not bothered about missing out on the ironing, though. I’m always happy to give that up to do something else…