FRIGHTENED out of my bed this am, our first day back to work after the long weekend celebrating whomever St Patrick was (the radio last week proclaimed that far from being a snake-beating Christian bringing religion to the Emerald Isle, Pat was in fact an English criminal, using Ireland whilst being on the run from creditors zzzz…).
7.14am and my boudoir door is HURLED open by Lilsister, who screams at me ”DO WE HAVE ANYTHING FOR BURNS IN THIS HOUSE” which we do not, as it turns out. It seems that in a fit of creating the illusion of washed hair, Lilsister, who hadn’t washed her hair at all in fact, had left her GHD on full blast, knocked it over, and it had landed on her wrist and hand, taking some skin off one side, and imprinting a red, scorched rectangular shape on the other. Quite a view first thing of a Tuesday. I naturally bounded out of the bed to stop Lilsister running cold water over the burns (the WORST thing you can do, according to a first aid course I did many years ago) and searched for cold cloths etc, in light of the fact that we had NOTHING to help her with.
Departing the house with some damp cotton pads which I placed in the freezer pressed to her wrist, Lilsister made her way to the bus stop, because the trams are running irregularly in Dublin today, due to a fire in the city several days ago, which somehow has made their crap service even worse. I was contacted by text then to be advised that the bus had left early, brushing past Lilsister as she stumbled along the path. It did not stop for her, and her mood got worse. I felt exhausted and based on the completely crap service that I usually get with the trams, but which promised to be worse today, I decided to drive to work, which I normally don’t do as parking is an issue. Noting that several people in my training group have been parking in a free public carpark every day for the last three weeks (which they are not supposed to do but as nobody monitors it they go for it) I left half an hour later than normal, and instead of the 45 minute LITANY of tram travelling horror that I usually have to endure, found myself at my office within six minutes, and was happy.
That is, until an hour later, when I was informed that clampers were out in the carpark hunting for me. Cue panic, and moving of car to the office basement, where there are no carspaces (hence the fact I was using the bloody public carpark in the first place) and me parking in a non space, that half blocked an emergency exit. Ahem. I also developed a headache, and felt depressed, as I am trying to eat less rubbish in an effort to become slim and attractive to the opposite sex, so only had fruit and crackers for snack food. Sniff.
Lilsister had arrived in the city in good time on a new bus, had found a chemist open and after making the assistant do dry vomits in her mouth from showing her her injuries, was able to secure burn cream and bandages for her wrist. She then went to work, and found out she had to do a presentation to her directors on the state of their accounts, complete with a bandaged wrist, which she hoped they would not look like a foiled suicide attempt prior to the meeting.
Nothing else of any note happened to make our days get any better, except that at least it wasn’t Monday, which is only a slight consolation. Then Lilsister discovered she had received the present of periods, and we declared her the winner of both our crap days.