Last Friday started off badly when I inadvertently inhaled my breakfast granola. A tragic interplay between a ridiculous yoootyoob video and my filled spoon. The mac's monitor was practically rough-cast by the time the coughing fit subsided.
The day further deteriorated when I spent at least 10 minutes trying to lick and stick an envelope whilst loudly berating myself for buying inexpensive stationery products.
Only to discover that I was licking the pull-off strip for a self-seal envelope.
And yes, I do recall slagging off sonshine for doing something similar with a non-stick stamp.
I then sat down to endure the process of organising insurance for the mini. I had kept a letter from mini that they'd sent me months ago in which they promised incredibly cheap insurance. I congratulated myself for being uber-organised and phoned them to see if the deal was still on and, amazingly, it was.
Reader, we went through almost the entire registration process before I realised that it was only TYRE insurance and not insurance for the whole car.
Cue some embarassed back-pedalling from me and an undignified hang-up.
Mid morning I decided to wash all the dishes that were leaning precariously in the sink. I don't know about you, but cleaning the inside of glasses has become fraught with danger. I stuck my cloth down the inside of a glass, created some kind of pump action and squirted warm soapy water all down the front of my trousers.
Which wouldn't have been so bad in itself except, about a nanosecond after I'd done it, the postman needed me to sign for a package and I greeted him at the front door looking as if I'd peed myself.
He said nothing, but I could tell by his furtively averted gaze that that's what he was thinking.
I changed my trews and wafted off to town to post some letters, bank some cheques and footer around generally.
I got to The Boss's office and threw myself through the door with my best impersonation of Slim Whitman and a rousing chorus of 'Darling Happy Anniversaaaareeeeee' and proffering an anniversary card for him and his wife.
Only to be told that I was a month early.
And if it HAD been in November, I would have been three days late.
By the time 3pm rolled around I was face down in the keyboard, unable to string two sentences together and horribly behind on my national novel writing project (nanowrimo).
Was Mercury retrograde, I wondered.
No. I didn't even have that excuse.
Sonshine came home from school, where it had been a Children in Need Day. He was supposed to go to school dressed in spots, but I don't have anything spotty - not even socks. Instead I'd sent him off with a small bag of stuff for the Bring And Buy sale with the strict instruction that, from HIS point of view, it was just a BRING sale.
'Well, what rubbish did you spend your money on this year?' I sighed, giving him a hug and simultaneously eyeing his bulging school bag.
'Something for you.' he said, raking around in his rucksack.
Proudly he produced a battered cardboard box....of Wall - E, my most favourite animated film EVER. Any time we think about buying it, it's not in stock or Tartarus grumbles that it's too expensive or something.
And now my Sonshine had bought me a copy. With his own money. Technically, my money, but let's not quibble.
Suddenly, Friday was the BEST day in the world.
And Mercury goes retrograde tomorrow: Stand by your beds for lost letters, forgetting to pay bills, misunderstandings by the cartload and the recording of football matches over your wedding video. And it won't even be the right football match either.