Somebody has sabotaged my coffee this morning, swapping it for decaff. That’s nasty work and not what you want when you’re suffering from a case of over enthusiasm on a hilly half marathon. At least I made it up the stairs at work unaided. Which is always a good start. Apparently we're out of the hard stuff, which isn't good news.
L gets out her bike, describes it as fraught and then complains of indigestion brought on by the stress of it all or I could have been last night’s Nasi Goreng. On top of that she’s planning on running with MD tonight. I’ll get the wine ready.
I’m clearly having a bad day. First the decaff, then when I get home and unpack the shopping, I drop a jar of pickle on the kitchen floor which explodes in impressive style. Then as soon as I’ve cleaned that up Doggo goes into the bedroom and vomits. He always has to go into the bedroom to do this and stupidly I’d left the bedroom door open so that he could. In fact he’s probably been waiting all day for someone to come home and open that door, just so that he can do this.
The pickle incident was completely the fault of the teenager on the checkout at Sainsbury’s. He insisted on scanning everything through as soon as I put it on the belt. So by the time I’d unloaded everything, he already had most of it piled up chaotically waiting for me at the other end. I couldn’t decide whether to ask if he was new or just stupid, so did neither.
I briefly considered paying him, as he sat there tapping his fingers repeating the total of my bill, just to see whether he would then pile the next customers shopping on top of mine but in the end just decided to ignore him totally and to pack things away as slowly as possible.
This was how my normal careful system of packing went awry, which was how the heavy jar of pickle came to be at the top of the bag, from where it could leap to freedom, rather than where it should have been at the bottom.
Having mopped everything up, I then train MD in the garden, taking the edges off him before his run with L. Which I’m sure he’s looking forward to, if only to see what discarded chips, kebabs, burgers etc he can find en route.
(Monday 19th September)
BRAPA - Drunk in St Neots (Part 2 of 2)
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