Yesterday was a simple day - on paper. Here is my to-do list, as it looked the night before:
1. Get RT Teen to college on train
2. Take IT Teen to volunteering job
3. Prepare for maths lesson and creative writing class (in school)
4. Collect IT Teen and take dogs for their walk
5. Go to creative writing class (and do not be late!)
6. Pop home for food then go to maths lesson
There. A nice, organised list with my time allocated so that I know what I'm doing. And then,
RT Teen felt a bit off, so didn't go to college, but by then I'd done my usual trick of laying awake half the night, ready to get up very early. Went back to bed and laid awake in daylight instead.
Took IT Teen to his volunteering job, but forgot about my eBay parcels so did them instead of lesson prep while he was out.
Collected IT and came home to do the lesson prep and creative writing whatnots. Forgot I hadn't factored in time for lunch, so ate that. By now, the clock was ticking.
Worked out where the school was for the classes, was told by lying heap of donkey-leavings that is AA Routeplanner that it would take 15 minutes to get there from my house.
Took dogs for their walk, got dog-leavings on my shoes (not my dogs' dog-leavings), hurried home to wash shoes and get changed for school class. By this time, I had just enough time for getting to the school with ten minutes to spare.
Set off, only to find there are massive roadworks set up along most of my route (thanks again Routeplanner) and I spent longer than the whole journey should have taken siting on one little stretch.
Divert off across country as soon as possible, get behind lily-livered people who don't know the road and am frothing at the mouth by the time I reach the general vicinity of the school.
At this point, my directions didn't help as they were based on my original route. Putting aside my usual habit of not asking, I begged help from a dog-walker and she told me where the school was.
Finally walk into the school, almost 20 minutes late for a class only lasting an hour in total. The class was being led by a woman I went to college with, so she was more willing to forgive than most (and is always late for things herself). She introduces me and I open my mouth, ready to give my own little presentation before handing out worksheets.
As I stand there, my hand slips down my side and finds the tag on my top, which I am wearing inside out, having been in too much of a rush after washing the shoes. I do a quick mental re-cap of the top and decide my hair will cover the tag at the back. I surreptitiously shove the side ticket into the waistband of my trousers and hope for the best.
By now, I'm meant to be speaking and the presentation in my head has fled. I pick up my book, The Boy Who Broke the School, and do a very hasty rendition of the plot, of how characters can be naughty and then, shakily but creatively, lead into the worksheets. Not a sure start!
It takes 10 minutes for an eagle-eyed girl to notice I am wearing my top inside out but she whispers it to me and thinks it's funny, so we're okay there. I then spoil it a bit by telling my old college friend, adding the unwanted details that at least I was wearing all my clothes, and that standing on the step, checking you're fully dressed is good practice for when we're very old and might go out without pants. She laughed, but apparently is never in danger of going out without pants (yet).
I leave the lesson only a little scarred and jump in the car to dash home, eat and go to my maths lesson. Halfway home, I realise my maths papers are back at the school, tidied away with the creative writing.
Once home, I do get to eat, but then ferret about repeating my lesson prep and set off again, into the dark, cold night, to my maths lesson. Get there, take a moment to discover they're not in. They got mixed up about the night (specially rearranged, I wasn't even meant to be out that night) and thought I was coming the next day instead.
I go to the shop and resist buying placatory chocolate and also resist having a meltdown at the self-service checkouts where the assistant and the ten-items-or-less woman had just shared a hilarious, amazing joke and were shrieking with laughter the whole time I was self-serving, quieting for a second before one of them added another 'mazing, 'larious joke and starting again. It's amazing and hilarious how much hate can build up in your body in a short space of time.
I went home, collapsed on the sofa, discovered the Sky remote had broken (our TV has no buttons) and was trapped with an Australian soap opera for too long while I worked out how to not press the Off button on top of the Sky box. Apparently, Josh is a bad boy and Kieran feels no one understands him - which is a pity, as he seemed pretty transparent to me.
You'll not be surprised to hear, at this point I just went to sleep on the sofa. That was it, no more!
I decided the day might have been better if I hadn't got up so early or had more sleep the night before, but I'm still dubious. I think some days are just sent to try us. I'm only glad that, as an aspie, I am used to winging it and playing it by ear and acting on the spur of the moment. All the things which mean when life suddenly descends into chaos, it only feels a little different from a normal day.
Today, though, I am staying in.
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