- Assorted domestic and administrative sysyphean stone rolling, with particular reference to the kitchen floor, laundry and a long, rage-filled early morning search for a missing swimming hat, finally located behind the dryer. Damn you, Belgian swimming pools and your officious insistence on pointless fabric skull caps. Once I had located it, the rest of the day was of course FILLED with sodding swimming hats, appearing in unlikely places, more than I could have possibly believed we own.
- Racking my empty brain. I hate this sensation. It's like it's sort of dry, and hollow, and however I try and trick it into originality, all I get is a sort of death rattle of tedium, with the faintest high-pitched backnote of whining from it. My brain is empty, wrung out, refusing to function. I must plan some kind of trip out of the house which is not to the dump, or Carrefour, or school. Oh, there is the accountant on Thursday! That will doubtless be newsworthy. And tea with the Teacup, which is always a treat. Also I am going to see Don Paterson do a reading on Friday which will be better than sitting on my arse eating dough foetuses (I ate one today. I'm not proud and it was dry and a bit rubbish).
The children have also expressed a clear view as to what we should do for my birthday: firstly, we must make sure Oscar's "birthday" - they have decided we share a birthday - is celebrated with due pomp and a large bone. Secondly, they would like to go to the Chalet Robinson like last year "where they put that firework in your ice cream". (They did, they put a birthday sparkler thing in my ice cream, as if I were 6 years old in my green velvet party dress, out for birthday tea in Bibi's Trattoria on Micklegate, spag bol, garlic bread and swirly white ice cream with a luminous criss-cross of green and pink sauce on the top). This seems like as good an idea as any, though does that mean I will have to take the waiter aside and tell him in a hushed undertone that it is my birthday, actually, and can I HAVE A SPARKLER I NEED A SPARKLER OR I WILL CRY?
- Talking of crying, I have also been crying - but with very good reason, first at this, and then at this.
- Wearing an exceptionally poor outfit. It is getting very very cold, so I am wearing one of those outfits - "outfit" really isn't the word, actually - where, when you get undressed in the evening (if you can bring yourself to, I confess to often sleeping in my clothes), you're startled at the number of layers you're wearing, several of which you have no memory of putting on. If anyone came round unannounced right now, I would just have to turn all the lights off and pretend to be out. Not that anyone ever does, except the Assassin. The Assassin came unannounced and rearranged all my furniture on Saturday. It's a massive improvement, actually, and he even dealt with the tarantula's nest of cables that have turned my living room into a deathtrap for the last twelve months. In return, I agreed to look after Bob "if anything happens to me". Which let's face it, it very well might. IT Helpdesks are dangerous places.
- The usual trace elements of existential panic, self-loathing and baby animals. Also a little light picking at my horrendously dry lips, which could frighten small children who stray too close to my forbidding, child unfriendly face (in which case, frankly, it is their own fault).
What was your day made up of?