Working from Home
Today has been a day to forget so far.
Miss 17 is apparently not talking to me today. I’m not really sure why. After calling her repeatedly over the course of an hour this morning, she emerged from her room with moments to spare in order to catch her bus to college. I asked if she had taken her medicine, which elicited a grunted “haven’t got time”, before storming out of the house and slamming the door behind her. I imagine reminding her again this evening will further enhance our current relationship.
Miss 14 put on an oscar-winning amateur dramatics performance in bed this morning – claiming she was at death’s door, and would under no circumstances be able to attend school. She didn’t factor on me going to work, picking up my laptop, and retuning home with it to “ruin her life” (her words). She now has no phone, no tablet, no computer, and no TV. While talking to a co-worker on the phone this morning I heard laughter drifting through the house, and discovered she had silently slipped downstairs while I was on the phone. I confiscated the television controllers, and ordered her back to bed. Cue nuclear-level ranting on the stairs (apparently I am “very, very mean”), and her bedroom door being slammed hard enough to rip the frame from the wall.
Miss 12 hid in the study until her school transport arrived, mostly to avoid my other half who was understandably upset that she would have to call the school yet again about Miss 14.
After clearing up behind everybody else, I suddenly remembered about a mechanical issue with my bike – so headed out into the garden with tools. Five minutes later the back wheel had been removed, re-attached, everything oiled, and tested – fingers crossed.
Of course having a working bicycle is only one part of the cycling equation. You also depend on the world around you to cooperate a little. I had no such luck this morning. Within two hundred yards a dog had walked out in front of me between parked cars, a pedestrian had walked into my path without looking, a van had reversed directly at me without looking, and a group of runners had run along the middle of a quiet road with no regard to my existence right behind them at all – apparently their conversation was far more important than their own self-preservation.
On the way back from the office – after picking up the laptop – I came upon a couple walking along the quiet lane I was cycling along. I got within two feet of them before either of them heard or noticed me – one person eventually jumped out of their skin, grabbed the other by their arm, and yanked them out of the way. They both shouted “Sorry” repeatedly as I stood on the pedals to accelerate past them. I decided to smile, rather than shake my head.
After dealing with Miss 14 mid-morning, I noticed a card on the doormat. The postman had pretended to deliver a letter than needed signing for – it was at the sorting office. I pulled my coat on, and set off on foot.
Like I said. A day to forget.