Because Monday was looming, I did not sleep well last night. This was partly due to the fact that my brain was doing the washing machine thing: ‘And don’t forget this, and that, and the other, and world peace, and cats with moustaches, and packed lunches, blah, blah, bloody, blah.’ And then I was over tired and it was shit.
And I had a dream that involved dinosaurs, which was a bit anxious making, when I finally did drop off.
And Jason has an absolute stinker of a cold, and spent most of the night honking into tissues and snotting and coughing and all that stuff. Which kept me awake when I wasn’t worrying about world peace and P E kits.
I think I had approximately 27 minutes sleep. Most of it spent being chased by a velociraptor and worrying about not being able to go on Strictly Come Dancing if I got eaten.
I have quite a few anxiety dreams about Strictly. It is odd, because I have never watched it. Not once. And I used to love Come Dancing, although it was never the same after Angela Rippon left.
It obviously taps into some deep seated fears about, I dunno, sequins?
So, this morning I was woolly of mind and thick of head and not very good at helping Tallulah who had to set off early this morning because she needed to be at the local swimming pool at twenty past eight, and had lost her phone and nearly forgot her sandwiches, and her books, and her swimming kit.
And then I had a million, squillion things to do before I went to the hairdresser. And this was compounded by Jason calling me because he thought he had lost his wedding ring and could I have a look for it?
Which I did. And I didn’t find it. So I added it to my list of things to worry about and zoomed off.
So I made it to the hairdresser in the nick of time, mainly because I drove round and round looking for parking spaces and cursed and swore because all the bloody students have come back and now there is nowhere to park and I might as well have left the car at home and walked from there. And how dare students? How very bloody dare they?
And because the hairdresser is ten, and the salon is frighteningly trendy and I am nervous in these situations and have all the social skills of a baboon, I talked and talked and talked like I hadn’t seen anyone for a million years, about absolute shite until I was sick of the sound of my own voice and felt sorry for the hairdresser and everyone in the salon who probably wanted someone to stab me with GHDs just to get me to shut up.
But I did come out with pink hair, which I love. And by Christmas it will be even pinker and possibly silvery too. Like a massive magenta space ship made of my head.
Which I like.
I remembered to pick up the tortoise from tortoise chokey, which made me win at Monday, because it was the one thing I was pretty sure I would forget to do.
I also managed to just get to Oscar’s school to pick him up, although I didn’t have enough time to take the tortoise home, and was worried someone might pinch her from my car, which I abandoned in a side road as I ran to school in a mist of anxiety.
Nobody will forget the pink haired parent carrying a tortoise through the playground for years to come, I predict.