Yesterday started out fine enough. The day before had been 70 degrees here so I was prepared for another day of sunshine and warm easterly winds. I got dressed in one of my favorite spring shirts, jeans, and ballet flats and a pearl necklace with matching earrings that Jason got me in China that perfectly match the color of my shirt. And topped it all off with my very favorite springtime fragrance, Flowerbomb by Viktor & Rolf.
Then I walk downstairs to join Jason for coffee and hear the weather on GMTV: "Quite a drastic change from yesterday I'm afraid! Best get your duffle coat back out of storage!" Oh well. That's allright. Just a quick change of shirt should do the trick.
Later, I set off on my walk to the train station to go to Fulham where I volunteer. As I'm walking along, I start to hear a "scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape, scrape" sound. It's then I realize that I've worn the wrong jeans. The ones that are just a hair too long to wear with flats. Great. Now the back hem of my jeans is going to drag on the ground all day and get all manky and crusty. Oh well. That's allright. Not much I can do about it now.
Then, I take a step and the toe of my shoe drops a little further than it should. A loose block of concrete in the sidewalk. And what goes down must come back up.... or umm... some nonsense like that... Regardless, when my shoe comes back up, there's the tiniest of sensations in the toe area. Enough to let me know that my Dior ballerina flats have sustained an injury. Okay. This day is not off to the best of starts. No no no no no. I'm not going to do that. This day can only be bad if I let it be. Didn't I see that on an inspirational poster somewhere? Maybe with a beach at sunset in the background? Or maybe it was a kitten and a puppy poking their heads out of a basket of flowers? Nevermind. Today, I shall buy into that cheeseball motivational bullshit.
I get to the station, get on my train, get off at Putney, bus to Fulham, walk to the school, etcetera etcetera... All is well.
Then at the very end of my last session, the kid makes a fuss because I didn't let her play games this session. I explain for the hundreth time that the games are a privilege and a reward, not a given. Let the sulking commence. As she stalks out of the library, I say "Have a nice break! I'll see you after Easter, okay?". No response. Just more sulking and stalking. Brat.
So I bus back to Putney, get to the station, and miss the doors closing on my train by a nano second because I have to stop to read on the scrolling board whether it's a Hounslow train "via Brentford" or "via Richmond". Next train? 15 minutes. For God's sake. So I sit on the freezing cold platform unable to even read my book because it's too cold to take my hands out of my pockets.
Fifteen cold minutes later, I get on my train and subsequently arrive in Richmond. Where it has started to rain. Rather heavily. Awesome.
As I'm walking up the hill to our building, I'm thinking to myself "If my Le Creuset tea kettle has finally arrived and is sitting on the doorstep, all this will go away and that'll be enough to make me happy. Just let this one little thing go right." Do you think there was a package at my door? Hells no. So I stamp up the stairs and dump myself on the couch.
And THAT'S when I remember something. A little jewel amongst the coal, if you will. Last night's America's Top Model episode on the SkyPlus box. Oh joy. Oh rapture. This could turn my whole day around. So I laze about on the couch eating Cookie Crisp cereal and revel in the drama for 45 minutes.
A little later, there's a buzz on the intercom. My tea kettle! Oh joy! Oh rapture! I tear into it, lovingly wash it with hot soapy water as the instructions instruct, and promptly make myself a steaming cup of tea. This day could turn out allright afterall.
Then comes the crown jewel. I'm scrolling through the channel menu to see what movies are coming on tonight and see that "The Wizard of Oz" will be showing at 7:00! Jason and I have always said that there's few things cozier than watching The Wizard of Oz. How it used to come on tv once a year when we were little and it was such a big deal. How you popped popcorn and gathered around the tv to watch a movie that everyone has seen a hundred times but still loves anyway.
So that was it. Take two of these and call me in the morning.