It wasn’t even 8 o’clock

It wasn’t even 8 o’clock and she was angry, the kids had been little bastards – her two-year-old little girl didn’t want to get dressed and the little boy is too much like his stupid Dad and it breaks her heart every time she gets back-chat from a five-year-old. She was already late and still needed to stop for petrol, and knew she was going to get a “talking to” at work anyway. Her Mom pops round to take the kids to nursery and school and she gets into her little silver Fiesta, still fuming. She stops for petrol, and tries to be sneaky and push in the line of traffic before the lights change – but some idiot in a red Seat blares her horn “FUCK YOU! FUCK OFF!” she screams as she slams her middle finger against the window. The girl driving the Seat looks at her blankly and drives past. She shows her middle finger again, still shouting but she loses the car in the traffic. About two miles later she thinks, Yes! there she is again, and swears at her again as she sails past.

etroAt work she braces herself as she steps out the car, she’s not as confident since the maternity leave, her replacement for a year seems to be doing it better than her and she’s worried about being pushed out. That’s what her meeting is about, she’s close but not quite hitting those targets but they’re not realistic anyway and her attitude is slipping but this morning she’s so angry about the kids and the car that she’s ready to fight her corner against the younger, prettier and more sociable ex-maternity temp. At least it’s at 9 to get it out of the way, her boss is an idiot and doesn’t know how to manage the team, and he doesn’t even know what she does there. Lunchtime comes and she’s still smarting from all that’s happened but at least her job is safe for the moment. She has a good giggle with the rest of the team and thinks she feels better, then she gets back to her desk and switches her computer back on, that spreadsheet she submitted first thing this morning before her meeting has come back with a glaring mistake and it’s one she cannot reverse or gloss over without letting the whole division know even up to managing director. Shit!

DTDB_PRE_BUDGET7.jpg - wine / alcohol

She collects the kids from her Mom’s house, and as soon as she walks in the door she opens that bottle of wine she’s had in the fridge since she left her verbally abusive husband six weeks ago. It’s a bit sour but she drinks and the kids are fighting over the Skylander figures and The One Show is on and she should put the kids to bed but she has another glass. Her five-year-old must have had a big day as school because he’s out like a light. Then her little girl gets up, it’s 10pm and she’s on her third glass and putting her little girl to bed Supernanny style. Her little girl eventually falls asleep at around 11:30, by then she’s just poured her fourth glass and clears away the chicken nuggets that they wouldn’t eat and starts to doze off herself in front of reruns of Scrubs on Dave. She sleeps, after such a day! She doesn’t hear the quiet crying from her boy’s room until morning.

Little did she know the day she’d have, and little did she know that the idiot in the red Seat would come home and write a blogpost about it. To the lady in the silver Fiesta, I am sorry, it was bad manners on my part – the lights there are not green for very long and I’m sure I am not the only person that would have pipped you. I certainly don’t think all your swearing was justified, it wasn’t very mature and especially not for that long down the road.

My first go at a quick fiction post, based on real events (only the petrol station bit obviously!). Let me know what you think!

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