Many moons ago, I wrote a blog post about how hectic it gets inside my head. It was called Brain Jam.
Yesterday was Life Jam.
I started the day scanning the news sites in bed at 5.30am. I rose reluctantly at 6.15am and typed up my first story. I raced the eldest to band rehearsal at 7.30am.
Normally I’d head home again to wrangle the youngest to school, but my ex asked me to pick the kids yesterday arvo because he had a meeting. So I headed to the city early, so I could turn around and grab the kids at 3pm.
Totally do-able as long as nothing went wrong …
As I was driving across the Harbour Bridge yesterday morning, my boss called to let me know the news editor was sick and could I lend a hand. I’d been planning on telling my boss I couldn’t lend a hand yesterday because I had too much to do.
But that’s not really how I roll in a crisis, so I said I’d help out when I arrived at my desk.
A crazy day ensued before I belted to the car and collected the kids 20 minutes late from the school’s front gate.
The eldest hopped into the front seat and handed me a cake box. She informed me it needed to be filled with a dozen decorated cupcakes and returned the next morning.
WHY?? I asked.
To sell at the Year 6 fete, she answered.
You MUST be KIDDING me, I replied.
She wasn’t kidding me.
My ex also texted to let me know he was running late and asked if I could feed the kids dinner.
He wasn’t kidding either.
I drove to the bank to get a cheque to pay for my new car, with a quick dash to Thomas Dux for cupcake and dinner supplies.
It was totally surreal when I arrived at the car dealer. My car had a big black cover over it and a sign with my name on it …
After I’d handed over the cheque, the black cover was swept off ceremonially and I was given a bottle of French rose.
I’m pretty sure that sort of fanfare didn’t accompany my acquisition of the Rav 4 13 years ago … is this the schmancy way things are done these days???
So, I’ve bought a Renault Captur … and it’s ORANGE. It’s very gorgeous. If it just had a CD player it would be perfect. The car dealer was very amused when I bemoaned the lack of a CD player. CD players are so last decade. He said I could just play the music on my phone.
I told him there isn’t any music on my phone, I deleted the app.
He said: “I thought you said you had a blog.”
I replied: “I do. AND I work for a website. But I’m very retro about my music.”
Fortunately he’s tuned six dodgy radio stations into the car so I’m not reduced to complete silence.
Then I bolted home to make cupcakes, fortuitously realising there were a dozen misshapen, slightly burnt pink ones in the freezer from a previous baking fail.
I pressed them into service, shaving off the burnt bits and decorating them with some wafer flowers that arrived at work a few days ago addressed to me, as part of a cake decorating goodie bag.
Then I made the kids some chorizo and avocado pasta for their dinner.
When my ex arrived, I thrust the cake box into his hands and threw myself into the car to drive up north and show off my new wheels to DD.
As I finally sat down to sip a glass of wine, a wave of exhaustion overtook me and I could barely keep my eyes open over our dodgy suburban Chinese dinner.
We parted ways at the ultra-middle-aged-dating hour of 9.15pm.
Then I made him Bluetooth me on my way home. I didn’t really understand what Bluetooth was before I got my glorious, orange Renault Captur.
I still don’t entirely get it but it means the car answers my phone and I can talk to people without headphones. Cooooooool.
Bluetooth totally rocks.
So does collapsing in bed after a day like yesterday.
I’m way too old for that shite.
Today should be a doddle. I just have to start work at 6am, nurse the cold-stricken youngest, buy the eldest’s high school uniform and decorate her birthday cake.
Piece of cake.
Song of the day: Icehouse “I can’t help myself”