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Saturday, March 22, 2014

It's a well known fact that the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley. Or something. I had a meticulously planned schedule for today, based around two key pieces of information: firstly, that Toby has now dropped my laptop on the floor once too often and broken the screen, and secondly, that I've been offered the chance to do some overtime. Combining those two things, and adding in the fact that we can barely afford to eat (at decent restaurants), I thought I'd factor-in three trips to work today.

So I got up at 6am, and at seven-twenty this morning, I was sitting at my desk at the hospital. By 10 o'clock I'd graded 50-odd patients (some more odd than others), at which point I headed back up the hill, where my intention was to take the kids out for a couple of hours, return to work for an hour or so while Toby napped at lunchtime, then take Amelie to a friend's birthday party, do another hour's overtime, and then take her home for tea.

It was a plan which couldn't fail. Until 10am, when it did. I returned home, expecting to find the kids with their shoes on, ready for some weekend father-fun, and instead found Amelie in a dressing gown, having her hair groomed for insects. Within two minutes of walking through the door, I'd been shown a wriggling louse on a nit comb, and informed that it was the fourth animal-encounter of the morning.

I did the washing up while Lisa did the washing down, at which point we noticed Toby scratching. I'll spare you the gruesome details, but frankly he was more infested than his sister. I blame that school assembly. He clearly did more than just rub shoulders with the children. He was probably running his fingers through their hair. So rather than taking my kids out for a pleasant stroll in the sunshine, we spent the morning combing, rinsing, screaming, moaning and delousing. After which I still had to do a bit of shopping.

Not only was there no time to return to work before the party, but we were so desperate to ensure that Amelie arrived there with no parasites, that we were 20 minutes late leaving. And we then had to go to Asda for more nit lotion. We got home at 3:40pm. And we've got to leave at four-fifteen to pick her up. To add to the broken laptop, we can't use the iPad either, as Toby got hold of the charger, and sucked it until the connection went rusty.

But whilst my plans for newfound wealth have gone right up the Swanee, there has been one bright spot in this most disastrous and frustrating of days. I was listening to my favourite podcast at work this morning, and it posed this interesting question:

There are 30 foxes, and 20 ate chickens. How many didn't?

The interesting bit is that anyone who reads that, can answer it. But most people who hear it, can't. In fact, they won't even understand the question. You've gotta love the English language.


Phil's Mum said...

Why are your Saturdays worse than the rest of the week?!