So this morning I had yoga.
I’d booked it a few months ago. An inversion workshop bloody yes!!!
So of course I got up a bit too late.
Spent too long hanging the washing up whilst worrying it needed to be dry as it was 99% school uniform.
Then I fed the animals.
Then I discovered I had no fucking idea where my yoga mat was.
We have only been moved 2 weeks but I was confident my mat was in my treatment room. It wasn’t.
So I had a mini lost mat flap and realised whilst doing this I needed to eat before a 3 hour yoga workshop.
Whacked a veggie burger in the oven.
Frantically shaved my arm pits.
Gave up on my legs – too little time.
Whilst dressing I gave instructions to my husband.
DO NOT leave the baby unmanned.
WATCH the baby and strap her in if feeding her.
Just look after them.
So I left the house minus my yoga mat. With a plastic plate of 1 veggie burger (no bun I had run out of time) 1 Apple 1 nectarine.
I decided to take husbands car – smaller, fuel economic, nicer to drive.
I then discover he has left it over night on the drive with the door wide open.
The whole of the car is covered in wet dewy water. It’s just wet. I put the wipers on to discover the water is on the inside of the windscreen and rear windscreen.
I find a crocheted football (made for son 3 after he smashed his toe on a sand pit digger – long story I hope is never repeated) and use this to clear the screen.
I’m stressed. I’m probably late by now. I’m driving along with both windows down and the heating on high to try and dry out the car.
I’m eating a veggie burger off a pink IKEA plate. Trying not to drip anything onto my yoga outfit.
I’m in control.
I’m totally ready for a yoga workshop.
Why is it always me.
Fucking wet car Arse shit.