I could say, fairly, that (thus far) today has been the worst day of the year for me. But instead I choose to learn a lesson from it and see the whole debacle, in retrospect, as a huge fucking learning curve.
Having had no sleep whatsoever I went to work where I spent almost an hour-and-a-half doing things like looking for carrier bags and getting salary advances and then forgetting what I was doing mid-task. For obvious reasons it is never good to forget to arrange a salary advance. Or not find a carrier bag.
When I (and my team) realised that I was as much use at work as a one-legged dog trying to bury a poo on a frozen pond the decision was made that it was for the best that I go home sooner-than-immediately as I was clearly suffering from the worst jet-lag EVER EVER EVER.
But, on the way home, because next weekend Helen, my best friend (the same one who hates the Eiffel Tower), is leaving the country to live in South Africa, where she will help people not to get HIV and AIDS, is having a party this weekend in Birmingham to celebrate (kind of) her departure, on the way home I picked up the VERY expensive car (which I do the PR for) from the garage, so that I could drive it up to said city, tomorrow morning.
[sharp intake of breath]
My housemate was in when I got home. This was fortuitous, as my arrival was supervened by an emotional breakdown of monolithic proportions. Over a cup of tea I managed to pour my heart and my tear ducts out big time. Oh, yeah! Apparently the "insignificant minutiae of the only slightly less-than-great things about my life" did not, collectively, feel quite so insignificant after all.
Much later on in the day (by which point I was feeling only slightly better) Vix asked me if I could help her take her bags out to her car as she was leaving to spend the weekend with her boyfriend, Ben, in Tunbridge Wells.
As I walked across the road towards her car I called out to her, "Let me just check that the [insert name of $100,000 car here] is ok," before looking around the corner to discover an empty car space.
Cut to right now with lots of swearing, panicked running, much relief that the $100,000 car had simply been impounded for being parked in the wrong zone (whole other contentious subject, at least from my point of view) coupled with the payment of a two hundred pound release fee and a housemate with a lonely boyfriend in a Streatham bowling alley ... [another sharp intake of breath] ... in-between.
In summation, today I was reminded of a very simple principle, which is that life is all about perspective.
This morning I had none.
This evening I have much.
Because when all is said and done jet-lag and an impounded car which technically doesn't belong to you is far better than a pointless, worthless life and a stolen car which technically doesn't belong to you.
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