I’m late! I’m late! I’ll wait.

I took a day off work yesterday. Like most women a day off work means running around like a mad thing; while for men, a day off work means working on their butt-groove in the couch, only moving for food, drinks and bathroom breaks. I had no less than five appointments staggered through the day. I’d put a book in my bag thinking I’d have time to sit down, enjoy a coffee and a bit of enlightenment. This is what my day looked like at the beginning:

9:15 – blood test

10:00 – dentist visit with Peanut

12:00 – tax return

13:30 – hair cut

15:30 – osteopath appointment for Peanut

See, plenty of time to relax in between appointments. Or so I thought.

We sat and waited at the doctors for my blood test, long enough for Peanut to poop (sorry if you’re eating). I went to change him to find no nappy bags in his bag to put said nappy in. I borrowed a specimen jar bag from the surgery bathroom, needs must and all that. The phlebotomist was 20 minutes late, then my vein gave out on my left arm. As I was having lots of work done, I had to be punctured in my right arm as well.

Forget going to the park for 10 minutes kid; I need to find a bin to put the nappy in, while you listen to two songs on the Frozen soundtrack in the car for entertainment.

Our new dentist could talk the hind leg off a donkey, he’s running late too, we sit and wait again. Peanut, despite practicing ‘Open wide!’ all morning was having none of it and wouldn’t let the dentist look in his mouth at all. I am told I need to have a clean and three fillings replaced. Eventually we leave his office at 11:23, instead of the planned 10:45.

Drop Peanut at nursery just in time for his lunch, drive to shopping centre, drop car off to be cleaned, sit down at Tax Office in a fluster at 11:58. And wait. Wait a bit longer. I get my book out and get called in.

After completing the tax return, I buy a coffee and walk with it to where I want to get lunch, trying out a new place today as I have time. Soft shell, gluten-free tacos. Yum. I read about three pages after I’ve eaten, then the list of things I need to do starts burning a hole in my pocket. I drop the dry cleaning off, investigate some work trouser options and try to find a replacement bowl for one that we broke. I promise the sales people I’ll be back and head up to get my hair cut.

(A word here on struggling to find a new, good hairdresser. I’ve been waiting in vain for my hairdresser to announce if they’re opening up a new salon, or renting a chair since they were summarily told to vacate their shop because of a major refit to the complex they were in. I had gone blonde, it looked fab, but as the regrowth grew out, I couldn’t cope with the gap, so dyed my hair back to brown. For months now I’ve waited and heard nothing, I’m hoping they’re ok. But it still took me two weeks to rev up the courage to call another salon to book in for a cut. It’s cut, it’s ok. It’s not great, but it is the best I can do at the moment. More importantly it took me 20 seconds to style it this morning. Will I go back to the new place? I honestly don’t know).

After my appointment, I wander back down to the home-ware shop, buy the bowl I needed. And a wine cooler, a whisk and a sushi roll maker that I didn’t. I head back to the clothes shop, try on four pairs of trousers, they all fit (yay for running!), buy three I need and a cardigan I didn’t, (but it’s so pretty and I’ve had six compliments on it already today).

I head to the supermarket to get a few bits, they don’t have the composting bags we need at home, so I will have to go to another supermarket with Peanut on our way to the osteopath.

Collect the car, all shiny and crumb free. Load up my purchases into the boot, collect Peanut, we head to the other supermarket, find the compost bags and he wants afternoon tea. One cheesy-ham roll later, my car is soon covered in crumbs again. He was so good at the Osteo, Jo was able to work on him while he lay or sat on me. We headed home, I put on Toy Story 2 for him while I had well-earned snoozette. When I woke up, we made pancakes.

I’d love to have a day off where I don’t have to play catch-up. Where I can just sit on the couch and watch Miss Marple, ringing a bell for a minion to bring me food. Or to lie on a beach with a book and a jug of cocktails, ringing a bell for a minion to refresh my glass.

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