if you're a duck. Before I begin my 'drowned rat' rant let me just point out that I do appreciate the rain, I know its good for farmers and pot plants and burrowing deep underneath a fluffy duvet. I get that lots of lovely wet stuff falling from the sky is a blessing, really I do, it's just that today I was geared up for a warm, dry, sunny 25ºC degree weather – had I known better I would have worn Wellies not Woolies flip-flop inspired flats.
I'd like to point out that as I was huffing and puffing my way up one of Sunninghill's nasty little inclines this morning (convinced that I was about to cough up a lung), it did not look like a flood was imminent. Okay, it was stupid o' clock in the morning and I'm not sure today hadn't actually been out of bed long enough to decide what it was going to do with this fine Tuesday, but still... I feel like I was sold down the river (literally).
Maybe you've had a rough start to the week, maybe your sense of humour is a little flat – being the sweet, accommodating young lady that I am, let me entertain you with the story of my morning, thus far...
You've already heard the bit about almost coughing up a lung during my morning job with the Drill Sergeant so I'll fast forward to the bit where I was back home, glugging down a Diet Fuel protein shake (don't judge me, I have to be on a beach in Oz in less than two weeks). Okay, so I drank my brekkies, swallowed a handful of women's multivitamins, checked that hubby was doing a wake up and then decided that today was a 'make an effort day'. Yip, I decided that today was the day to wear one of my pretty new (so shouldn't have bought but love) tunic tops, put on 50s inspired red lipstick and tame the frizz ball of hair on my head with the 'how did I ever cope without one?' GHD.
I am not a faffer. I'm a shower, twist hair into a bun, wiggle into favourite skinny jeans and chuck on a plain white vest kinda girl. I can literally go from post-gym to outta the house in 15 minutes... my mother programmed my sister and I to go from 'outta bed to into the car' in a similar timeframe throughout out school years. I lost count of how many times my sister climbed into the car, cereal bowl in one hand, school bag in the other... and I used to leap into a moving car halfway down the driveway at least once a fortnight. When my mother said she was leaving at 07h10 she meant she was leaving at 07h10, with or without you. In fact, to this day, I think she is the only mother to have ever gotten the St.Andrews school bus to pull over on the highway to let my sister and I jump on board. Missing the bus simply wasn't an option.
Anyways, back to the point of this post... my ill-planned morning. So, I get myself dressed, having splashed out and taken 30 minutes to get ready instead on 15. My locks are straight, my lips are painted and my pink toenails make me smile (Thanks, Essie). I'm just about to grab my bags (the things seem to breed), and stroll out the door when there's a knock... "Morning, did you get the slip under your door about painting the carports? Today, is your block's turn. Please can you move your car?" Sounds like a simple enough request, right. Um, it usually would be except that I am in a hired car (that's a whole other post) and hubby is driving an office car and his car is having a rest.
At the very second that I ventured out to move hubby's car from under the carport to an open parking bay the heavens opened and even my most accelerated dash to the carport wasn't enough to keep me relatively dry. I hopped into the RunX, reversed it into an open bay, leapt out and got into my hire car as quickly as I possibly could. A quick glance in the rearview mirror revealed a little mascara smudging and a tiny frizzy halo but overall I had escaped the downpour relatively unscathed. Feeling quite chuffed with life I drove to work and the heaven opened up even more. "That's okay," I thought, "I have my mini portable umbrella in my bag, I'll just hop out when I get to the office, grab it out of the boot and I should manage to stay dry during the trip across the carpark."
Ten minutes later I was huddling under an open boot, scrounging through my handbag, water dripping down my back... and then the penny dropped – "um, excuse me," the memory bit of my brain chimed in, "but, um, you took the umbrella out last night because it was taking up too much space in your handbag." Seriously?!? Somewhere Murphy is rolling around on the floor laughing so hard is little Guinness-induced pot belly is aching.
Needless to say, I emerged at the other end of the carpark crossing looking like an over-dressed drowned rat. The Drill Sergeant has just arrived, too – looking über glam, her fashion-forward ensemble unscathed, as she shook out her umbrella. One look at me and she had to giggle (I don't blame her, I would've done the same): "You actually blow dried your hair this morning? Well, that was silly." Yip, not even a duck would argue with that.
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