Coffee cups and post-it notes
Today they asked me to organize the collection for the boss’s birthday gift. Sure, I said, I’ll try to fit it in between my bikini wax and my frontal lobotomy. I mean come on people. Do you have any idea what my day’s like?
The alarm jolts me from glorious sedation at 5.45. I hit it for five, then another five, then five too many. Unglue the eyelids, yank the kid out of bed, jump into the shower, shovel breakfast down the kid’s throat, into the traffic, drop kid at school, do make-up in the car, trying not to spill macchiato while steering with my knee.
Into the office and before I’ve even reached my desk I’m dragged into the boardroom – desperately needing a pee – for a meeting that ends two hours later. Hobble out, read emails and learn that the report that was due today… was due at 9. Notice I’ve had three missed calls from the school and that I forgot to eat breakfast. Answer the phone with a mouth full of bagel only to discover that my date of three nights ago – the one I’d kind of given up on – would like to take me out again. Temporary lapse of concentration due to high-speed daydream. Huh? What was that? The deadline’s been pushed forward? No problem, can I offer you a light for that joint you’re smoking?
Diaries to keep. Lists to make. Deadlines to meet. Aaargh, get me off this treadmill. Back into the traffic, pick up kid, shop for dinner, phone call to mother, eat, walk dog, bath, story, bedtime, much-needed glass of wine… Fall asleep on the sofa in front of the TV, wake up at 2.30am, crawl to bed only to wake up 3 hours later, make-up stains on the pillow, and begin all over again.
- Single-again Samantha
