Will stay in bed next time
There are days you should not participate in. If you are quick enough, you also catch the warning before
• I should have known that the stove was laid. Already on the morning when the windscreen wiper smoke from the car in the middle of rush hour, my alarm clocks should have called. It - the windshield wiper - used to free itself when I was rolling over a quiet residential road. After that it was a nice matter to stop and click it in place again. But this morning almost wiped the wiper blade, hit the window with fierce clone sound and disappeared, to my great annoyance, somewhere on Jagtvej. However, it was just the warm-up for the big party day that took place later in the week. One day when I had to stay in my bed, I had been smart and had the slightest sense of allusion.
One morning a few days later, I just got to step aside before I joked in the relatively large pool of fractures on the kitchen floor. Alongside, ideal-weighted chihuahua stood and made a peacock attempt to look surprised, after which it looked up at the burlap. (Flabbed cattle. As if a bird the size of a shuttlecock is able to projectile five times its own size. Through bars.)
Vomiting-drying delayed today's program so morning coffee had to be on the move, and while thermocouple was standing on the entrance furniture, I jumped hopping rap in the outerwear. With a whirling rap arm movement, I was then overturned cup filled with coffee - including lots of milk and lid screwed on - after which there was latte everywhere. As a very special bonus on today's occasion, the basket of winter tea was also hit: Four seasons collection of hats, gloves, mittens, scarves, rainwear and leather gloves were more or less soaked. Incidentally, it also applied patchwork on the floor. Had to spend ridiculously long time getting wet garments sorted and google if leather gloves could withstand 60 degrees with rainwear and cloth rug.
Despite the lack of coffee and planning also out the window, I still tried to take control of the day. It kept from the front door until I had set myself in the car, where a ten-centimeter-long crack in the middle of the windshield told me I could think again. I pretended nothing. Carefully left the car and lined up on the land register. Sometimes it is a matter of making as little posture as possible, perhaps it will change things. A crack in the car window, for example, might turn out to be just a little scratch if you ignore it long enough. But I had forgotten that it is of course only on ordinary days. It does not work on the particular of the days, the days that contain only the assailants. Robbery days are resistant.
It had gradually dawned on me that it was exactly such a day I had been assigned, and as I later checked the car window again, I was therefore not surprised either. Crack was not turned into a little scratch, crack was still cracked. On the other hand, it was twenty centimeters longer.
And then it was that I lied a little. Just a tiny bit. Because I could not find "damage to the window caused by the windscreen wiper, which suddenly and completely unexpectedly and with great force breaks and hits windows" during damage I am covered by my car insurance. But a stone slab is pretty much the same. I got formalities in place, ordered time in the workshop and tried to remember that after rain there is always sunshine, and as the wise saying also states, there is nothing so bad that it is not good for anything: It would be quite nice to greet the boys in the workshop again; It was only a few days ago that we last saw when they had put a new wiper on the car.
A little later, another cup of coffee lost its balance in the entrance, but since both the clothes basket and cloth rug were not available, the damage was barely as extensive. In fact, as on a regular day, which could mean that I might have been assigned the dose. Of course I didn't.
Assfucking days also have evenings, and before I went to bed, I just got to receive a letter from the municipality in my e-box. It was a reminder. For some property tax or duty on the landline or something similar that I apparently had forgotten to pay. Too much, very long time ago. For a moment I was tempted to continue not paying, because when municipalities discovered that they had not received the money for so long, they might not have needed so much for them. Not as much as I had, because it wasn't because insurance paid the entire amount of new car window. But you should not make that kind of choice on such days, it certainly comes back sevenfold in the bad way. So I paid. And at the same time made an auto-reply on my mail, ready for next time:
“Thank you for your mail, which I neither read nor respond to today. I'm whispering how important it is, I'm not available the next twelve hours, either online or in reality. Please contact me another day where I don't get ass-fat on asshole if I just stick my head out the window. ”
I would advise everyone to take the same precautions.
Louise Raaschou is a trained journalist and works as a freelancer. She is 48 years old, has two sons of 17 and 12 years and obvious difficulties with adult role. She is unable to speak giraffe language to her children and can rarely overlook the school's intranet. She has a marked lack of overview, is miserable for small talk and for meetings at school she often says the wrong. On the other hand, she becomes a little bit too much for the parenthood. She can't make a proper smoothie and has never posted pictures of fresh bouquets from the garden or homemade bread on facebook. On top of that she smokes. In addition to the children, the family counts an overweight chihuahua as well as two hysterical budgies, and oh, yes, then she is single mother. Some of the time. For she shares the boys with their fathers. Yep. There are also two of them.