This is a brief return to almost-normal service to illustrate the fact that Fucken Monday rests for no one. This was my first Monday back at work after my week off, so of course it was extra Fucken.
Things started off well enough: no one died at the breakfast table, for instance. The Elderbeast asked if we were going to the gas station. As regular readers will now, the Monday Morning Trip To The Gas Station is part of the Monday routine now … and yet I had manage to complete forget about this in the space of a week. This necessitated getting ready to leave the house a few minutes early. Meanwhile, the Kinderbeast had a trip to the zoo today–for which he needed to be at school by 8:45am–so we needed to get even more ready a few minutes early than usual.
Normally getting the Kinderbeast to school for 8:45am would not be a problem. Normally …
I get the lunches ready, then remember that I’m supposed to pack the Kinderbeast’s lunch in a disposable plastic bag, which I assume means that all of his lunch needs to be in disposable packaging. So I take everything out of the tupperware and repack it. We’re now just a few minutes later than usual, but still relatively early so all is well. We get to the gas station and there’s no queue, so we drive right up to a pump, which is all good.
I’ve promised the Elderbeast a traditional Monday Morning Hot Chocolate, so I pay for the petrol and for a hot chocolate. We then turn to the hot drinks dispenser. There’s a guy in front of me, and in front of him is another guy who is making a coffee. He finishes, and then makes another coffee. The way it works is that you pick your cup, you put it under the spout, you select your drink, and the machine pours it out. Then you retrieve your cup, you put the lid on, and you get the hell on with the rest of your life so the person behind you can make their own drink.
Not this guy.
This guy makes FOUR–that’s one, two three and, then, four–coffees. He has the little cardboard trays ready for all of them. I’m standing there realising that there’s now a very good chance we might be late for the Kinderbeast’s bus because this guy at the front of the queue has decided to make all of the coffee in the known world using this one, insignificant, gas station drinks dispensers.
I then notice there’s a car waiting behind mine at the pump. I step out the door to see if I can move my car anywhere, but all the parking spaces are taken. I have no choice but to leave the car where it is for now. I step back inside and someone else has taken my place in the queue, and I’m too British to say anything about it.
Naturally, the machine also runs out of milk, since this one guy is making every single coffee that can possibly be made. So we have to wait while the assistant refills the machine. Finally he’s done. He puts his coffees in their little paper trays and carries them around to the counter, because it turns out he hasn’t even paid for them yet. Then, proving that karma can be a beautiful little shit when it wants to be, he ends up spilling half of it down his shirt–because carrying four gas station coffees in little paper trays isn’t something that any human was ever designed to do.
The two people in front of me make a perfectly acceptable number of drinks: that being one each, and we’re finally done. I get back to the car and find the poor Kinderbeast crying because he “missed us”, and we’ve obviously been gone seventeen years in five-year-old time. I give him hugs and tell him he can come in with us next time and we’re on our way.
We get to school with a healthy five minutes to spare (and, in case you were worried, the Kinderbeast is fully recovered from his trauma at this point). Then I realise, with all the lunch shenanigans, that I’ve forgotten to pack the Kinderbeast’s water bottle. There’s nothing I can do about it now: I don’t even have time to go to the shop over the road and buy him a bottle of water. I explain this to the teacher, and she asks if he has his hat.
Luckily they have spare hats. I kiss the Kinderbeast goodbye and tell him I hope he has fun at the zoo. And we’re done.
Except Monday has still got a little bit of Fucken left for me. I’m going round the roundabout, turning right onto the main road. A car pulls out at the second exit, into the outside lane. I’m on the inside lane, ready to the take the next exit. I figure the car is heading to the same exit as me: there are two lanes, one for each of us; it’s all good. Except, no–this car is actually taking the next exit and does it by cutting riiiiiight in front of my lane. Luckily I trust no one on a Perth roundabout, so I’m already keeping well away from the driver. Nevertheless, whoever it is still gets treated to an extended earful of my car’s horn.
And, I’m glad to say, that seemed to be all the Fucken that this particular Monday had for me.