Busy Idiot
I should have known how today was going to play out as soon as I got up this morning.
I finally went to bed last night at about 3am, after watching the first few results come in from the general election. I crashed into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately – waking with a start at 7:15 this morning, with the radio blaring away in the bedroom. I think somehow the radio station had been in whatever dream I was having.
The next hour, leading up the kids departing for school started quietly – with just me in the kitchen cooking croissants, making packed lunches, washing up, and so on. My other half appeared in the kitchen in a breathless blur, shouting “DAMN, DAMN, DAMN”. She had forgotten to buy Filo pastry for our eldest's cooking class, so tore off down the road in the car to see if she could get any at the supermarket.
It was at about this point that Miss 11 arrived downstairs, looking like she had been pulled through a hedge backwards. She had homework to do that she had forgotten the night before, and was going to do it while eating breakfast – meaning she wouldn't be getting ready for school.
Miss 14 then had a huge tantrum about how long her porridge was taking to cook in the microwave. Putting it back in for one more minute was apparently going to ruin her entire day. Never mind that after eating it she vanished into her room for 20 minutes. We have never figured out what she does during those 20 minutes. She goes into her room looking fine, and comes back out looking exactly the same. It's a mystery known only to teenage girls.
Everything went a bit pear shaped by about 8:15, when Miss 11 was still doing her homework, had not got any socks on, hadn't brushed her hair or teeth, and was never going to get out of the house by 8:20 to avoid my other half being late for work.
If you were wondering, yes, our house runs on rails on weekday mornings – if anything at all goes wrong it causes mayhem.
There was shouting. Lots of shouting. Very loud shouting. Finally Miss 11 seemed to realise the enormity of the situation, and screwed her homework up into her bag. I got told off by my other half for shouting, and then she started shouting at the kids. Go figure.
The rest of the day at work was remarkably peaceful – meaning I could keep thumping the desk and swearing in the way I typically do when writing code. I forgot lunchtime, and wondered why I felt so feeble by mid-afternoon. There's a tremendous temptation when working on something big and complicated to “just do this one more thing” before stopping.
The phone rang five minutes before the office shut for the weekend, and my other half gave me a shopping list of things to pick up on the way home (most of which I already knew). Upon getting home only Miss 14 was in the house – everybody else was at swimming lessons, so guess who went from room to room tidying up and putting things away.
While writing this we're waiting for friends to arrive. I have pizzas to cook, they are bringing wine, and we'll pick a rubbish movie to watch. I can hear crashing and banging around in the kitchen – which probably means I'm going to have to go clear it up again, and wash up again in a minute.
I'm tempted to shout “F*CK IT ALL”, and go buy a bottle of wine.