I spent quite a while, today, just trying to get to the shower.
It’s such a simple thing, and it’s nowhere near as time sensitive as it was during working times, but it’s still a thing that needs to be done.
If I’m doing something like making bread, I’ll get up and start the bread first thing, and then I’ll generally mooch about doing odds and sods – washing, washing up or whatever – while it proves, then split it up, prove it again and cook it. Basically, downstairs jobs. Then I’ll dare to shower.
That was my plan today. Except I tried to go during the first prove…
I set off for the shower, and Carole got a delivery that required my presence.
I then didn’t go for a shower because I distracted myself with other nonsense. Then I tried again.
Another bloody delivery.
The best bit about Carole’s deliveries is she’s generally unaware of what day things are due. Just soon. Or sometime. Or, occassionally, she’ll mention she’s ordered something after it’s already arrived or sometimes you’ll be waiting for stuff to come and then it’ll turn out that she never clicked the checkout buttons. It’s something you just have to roll with. I know when absolutely anything is arriving. Planned with almost military precision. Carole has a more relaxed approach.
Then I realised it was time to do bread things. So I did those. And then I thought I’d try again.
Then Carole bloody rang.
Then I went to go again and my mum rang.
I mean… come on people.
All I want to do is go and have a shower for way longer than it should take for someone to have a shower. And you’re all interupting me with your deliveries and your phone call nonsenses.
And now it’s time to do the cooking part of the bread. So I’m here for a good half hour because I need to adjust the oven part way through the cooking process and I can’t be trusted to leave a shower in time, not since I escaped from under the thumb of 6.30am departures for work requiring ten minute showering.
Is that too much to ask?