Struggling with a bucket sized handbag, a trumpet, and car keys whilst gassing on the blower, I cursed having only two hands. As that is when I first noticed the vague feeling of coolness. Coolness as in the opposite of cool. Or hip. I think ‘hip’ shows just how low in the cool stakes I go.
The day started well: smugly I thought of another half hour in bed to the 6am chorus of the recycling truck. Teengirl’s shout out at 7.30 knocked the smile off my face. I regained points in the late-start runaround by remembering the Christmas card deadline. We are, afterall, in November. Points lost for forgetting the Trumpet.
Driving was a no-brainer as I eventually parked closer to home than school on the second trip. Struggling with the trumpet et al I felt a little chill. Up to this point the morning was all a bit of a rushed blur but I believe that in throwing on some clothes I hadn’t quite managed to get fully dressed and my top remained further up my torso than it ought. Actually, it just about covered my bra, revealing my midrift in all its glory. In a totally attractive, and obviously befitting of my age, and the weather, type way. More WTF? than MILF me thinks.
Fortunately my day was cheered by that youtube video, despite causing my fave niece some social torture. It also proves that humour, no matter how cruel, should always be applauded when it raises big belly laughs.
A later-than-usual rehearsal for the girls meant time for a delightful dinner with all three dustbin lids. I’m reminding myself of its delight because later on Strictly Mommy warmed up with some unpopular decisions. Especially for Teengirl. Someone please tell my boy that watching ‘the world’s strictest parents’ might not be enough to ward off the full-blown return of Strictly. Anyways, I need to save all my free-range parenting for the far far far away future…of my grandkids.
At the end of the day I realised one thing…the laundry bin is exactly like the magic porridge pot: no matter how many loads you pull out, the bastard continues to overflow.