A Jonah Day

It all started when my hair just wouldn’t sit right.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not one of these girls who primp and pout in the mirror every morning to make sure everything is perfect, I don’t expect or have time for perfection. Today my hair was just full of static, instead of my usual Shirley Temple curls I had a Michael Jackson afro, I sprayed water on it and it went flat, I put ‘product’ in it and it looked greasy. Great I had to have another shower and wash it. This time it can air dry and lump it.
As I was getting dressed I put my foot into what I thought was a leg hole in my underwear and ripped off the waist band.
I spilt cereal all over the floor by bumping my bowl as I was putting the cereal box on the table (the dog got to eat that) then I poured milk on top and it ricocheted out of the bowl and straight into my lap. Went in and changed my clothes…..
I was making my husband’s lunch and as I was cutting a bread roll in half I sliced my hand on the bread knife (mental note here: bread rolls should be included in all first aid kits, the absorption is terrific) grabbed a band aid then promptly forgot about the cut and chopped up a tomato. When I was able to get down off the top of the overhead cupboard I had a fight with the glad wrap and used about 10 meters to wrap one bread roll.
Our dog was being very persistent this morning for me to have a quick game with the tennis ball before I left for work. I grabbed the ball and the throwing stick, (a brilliant contraption that allows you to pick up the ball and throw it without getting slobber on your hands) and headed out into the back garden.
After the 3rd ball went over the fence I decided that she will have to take up scrabble, I chucked her a bone and had to carry the guilt and the sight of that little disappointed face with me all day.
Ok, now I’m at the front door, drop my keys 3 TIMES!!!!!! Walk out and lock the front door and trip down the last step. Now there are two schools of thought here as to whether this was good or not, I’m a little unsure myself as I would have preferred not to have tripped at all…..anyway, my car, which is parked outside the front door, saved me from falling flat on my face. I splatted into the passenger side window using my PMT afflicted breasts to break my fall. As I tottered, blind with pain, around the side of the car I dropped my *^#@ keys again.
I took as deep a breath as broken ribs and smashed boobs will allow and soldiered on to the driver’s side and after opening the door fell gratefully into the driver’s seat whacking my head on the door frame as I dropped. I sat looking at the pretty stars and nursing my girls tenderly until the pain subsided into a dull manageable ache.
I put the key into the ignition and turn. NOTHING!!!!!!!!! “:@#$*!!*”’/ car….@#!$%^* flat battery.
By the way, I think we need to come up with some new swear words, those old ones I used just didn’t hit the spot at all and I used the royal family too.
RIGHT, so now it’s p*#@$%^&g down and I have to walk up to the station. *&^%$#@ swearing is still not helping and neither is slamming the car door 4 times.
My !@#$%^&*_+ house alarm key isn’t working now, I cant get back into the house without setting off the alarm. My umbrella is just inside the foyer right under the alarm sensor. FINE.
All my self control is now focused on me not smashing the alarm key, every car window and the entire front garden.
I patio hop all the way up the street, the rain is not too heavy but I need to get out of it a bit or I’ll get soaked. I was given the third degree by 2 people upon whose patio’s I was sheltering, I’m really struggling for calm here as it is raining quite heavily now. After being asked what I’m doing on the veranda I said that as they could see I had no umbrella and it was raining really heavily and I thought that no one would mind if I stopped here until the rain stopped. ‘no umbrella eh?’ says the patio owner.
My response....‘Oh my God, I’m in the presence of Sherlock Holmes. Your powers of observation are uncanny” I force a smile on my dial to take away the sting of my contempt for this Einstein of the obvious. Then I have to pretend that I find my situation as funny as he thinks it is.
Those swear words are creeping back up my throat when I notice the sun had come out and there was a rainbow hanging over us. I bolted before the urge to strangle him with the straps of my shoulder bag was too strong to resist and continued to the train station. If I hurried I would just make the train.
So I have the train station in sight, the rain has started again but is only light and I spot a big white dog running around in the park next to the station. I automatically look around for his owner but I’m the only human around.
Bugger it, look away! It’s not my problem! I’m going to be late for work! *&%$#@!
He’s going up the ramp to the station, I call out, dog turns around and pelts over to me.
Aaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh the stupid bugger has a huge padlock on his collar and is dragging a bit of broken chain behind him. I can’t pretend he isn’t lost now can I? And I can’t leave him there either.
I grab the chain, in between being licked and jumped on, and wrap it around my hand so he won’t get away and because dogs are the body language masters, I have to Tai Chi myself into a relaxed, calm state so that I can manage him. Our local vet is just near the station and takes in strays, so we head on over there. Just as we are leaving the station ramp my train pulls in. I’m beyond caring.
The chain is about a foot long so I have to walk bent over double. The dog is a cross Cattle Dog/Labrador and is very strong (both in mind and body). I feel a bit like Jerry Lewis in one of his skits, I’m being dragged along wherever this hulking great dish licker wants to go and no amount of my being relaxed and calm is making any difference SO against the dog whisperer’s advice I find myself in a towering rage, Rewanda the Great takes over my body and I drag that poor hapless beast across the road, in the pouring rain to the dreaded vet’s surgery.
Here my luck changes for the better, dish licker is micro chipped and I leave him in the capable hands of the Vet who is going to call his Mum to come and get him.
My hands and back are killing me as I walk back up to the station in the pouring rain, again. I’m soaked right through to my aching tits. I ask the station master for the key to the ladies room but he informs me that it hasn’t been cleaned yet and by the way the next train has been cancelled, for today only. I lean in gently and ask for the key to the men’s room….he hands that over without much fight.
I turn on the tap in the washbasin and water shoots out all over me, I can feel a big hysterical laugh welling up in my throat. (what do you reckon they would do if they could hear a woman laughing maniacally in a men’s restroom? Hmmmm) I decide that I’m too tired to go mad so I mop up as best I can with the kind of paper towel that leaves lint all over your black pants so that they look like they have dandruff, then sit quietly on the platform to wait out the 25 minutes til the next train comes to get me.