Wednesday, March 07, 2007

We shouldn't have had those mini-sausage rolls for supper at midnight on Monday.

I slept badly, and woke on Tuesday morning with indigestion, aching arms (that'll be the repetitive strain/ trapped nerves in my neck, or whatever) - and feeling as though I had a cold coming.

I drove the overheating car to the garage via the Squinty Bridge. The temperature nearly went off the gauge, and I pulled in as soon as I could, intending to stop the car and raise the bonnet. Then it normalised again. Pulled back out into traffic again, and drove round the corner to the garage. It may be the cylinder head gasket needing replacing, but for now I have been shown how to bleed the cooling system, and told to monitor how much extra fluid it needs.

But I'm ahead of myself. Outside the garage (which is in a narrow back court between tenements), a woman made me move my big car round a tight corner between other parked cars because she had to be parked outside the back door of her office premises. (There was nothing wrong with where she'd parked behind me, but it didn't suit her.) My own internal thermostat went up a few degrees during the manoevre. And then, walking back to the main street, another woman rushed past me in her car, right through a puddle, drenching me from the knees down.

Feeling bedraggled and woe-begone, all I wanted at this stage was a coffee. But I didn't think I'd make it back to the office with an extra coffee inside me. I waited until I got there.

Glancing at my calendar, as one does, I noticed the small print again.

"Not your day, Bitch!" My calendar has no respect. As you'll have gathered.

And then I got a headache which lasted until tea-time, notwithstanding the powerful tablets that I keep handy. By this stage I had given up counting - if bad things come in threes, had I reached six or was I heading for a triple whammy?
(Image: (with grateful thanks to polijunk!)

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