The Night of the Tacky-back Plastic
Last night, Viola-Kid was assigned the task of decorating his new Geography manilla wallet. He did it in oil-pastels, and was none too pleased to discover that the colour came off on the hands of anyone touching it. Did I say, none too pleased? He was panic-stricken.
And so it happened that Pseudosupermum abandoned Chapter 1 of her thesis, and leapt into her car at 10.35 pm. Off to the 24-hour supermarket in search of tacky-back plastic.
It wasn't easy to find, but I did find some. I bought three rolls (to be on the safe side), and proudly bore them home. The wallet was covered, the crisis averted, and Viola-Kid went off to bed.
We got up early this morning, so I could take him to school early for a music practice. I needn't have expected gratitude for my efforts of last night. That was last night. Now I had cruelly woken him up to go to a practice that HE had wanted to attend, and I was all things bad! I found out later that everything went pear-shaped after I left him at school. The teacher leading the practice was off sick, but the school forgot to notify the musicians, who all sat waiting for quite a while before anyone else turned up and worked out what had gone wrong.
I walked for about 100 minutes today. I feel so virtuous! I took the car for repairs, walked to work, made an unscheduled visit to the university mid-day, and walked back to the garage after work. Is it any wonder I can't concentrate and have achieved precisely nothing this evening?