Yesterday morning will rank along side some of the worst. I dithered about what to wear, I could easily put on what has become a uniform for me, which is wide leg linen trousers, a long thin tunic and a long cardie. All very Katerine Hepburnish.. But for some reason I threw a mental wobbly.
I wanted something edgier, something black and grey for a change rather than shades of a bakery. So of course we are looking for 'those' black trousers the ones buried between black skirts, so we can't see them, then we find a different pair of black trousers, wrong length. Find the one we were originally looking for, change undies for clear straps and bingo the top is too small ( shrank in the wash, please God let it have shrunk and that I have not grown) so stick on another black top, find a cardie with big enough arm holes to fit over the puff bloody sleeves ( there a post all of its own) and I have less than 2 minutes to put make up on.
Grab foundation, squeeze and an ark 2 feet long squirts across the bedroom onto his new shirt and favourite rain coat. The clock stops ticking my heart sinks, I grab the shirt and run to wash off the makeup. I might as well have tipped a pot of bicycle enamel over it. This stuff STICKS. How the bloody hell do I get it off? I tried make up remover, Vanish, Biological soap powder, nothing. So I put it on a hot wash and pray.
Meanwhile the jacket looks very sorry for itself but having missed one train I gave up and went to work. I phoned him up to confess, he starts ranting about travel card, pockets, why don't I check them etc etc etc, and I realise I did not check, so I rant back that I was trying to help.... and so, such is the stuff of relationships.
The card was not in the pocket, the make up had only hit the underside of the collar, and so now I just have to brave the jacket.
Again this morning I realise that very few cardies are cut to wear over tops with sleeves. All the fashion papers shriek "Layer" but how do you layer when your arms feel like a squashed sausage? luckily for me a cardie I bought in some obscure boutique in Narberth has saved the summer. It is a Scandinavian make, Fransa, lovely cut and detail, with arm holes big enough to fit over another top.
Today I got it right, tomorrow I am bloody sorting out my wardrobe again..
Oh, did I mention the effing moth are back. Those dinning room curtains have got to go.