I have this fear:
Looking at my watch I realise I have taken too long straightening my hair. At least two minutes too long, maybe five. I slap on my makeup, it doesn’t really matter how even it is, crazy people can’t put make up on straight and right now I’m feeling crazy coming on. I shuffle down to the kitchen grab my handbag, lunch and bag of random work stuff, swiftly say goodbye and head out to my car.
The three minute trip goes smoothly. I sail through my neighbourhood to join the line that is heading towards school (work). The lollipop lady is poised but doesn’t stop traffic in front of me. Great luck. The news hasn’t come on the radio yet. I’m winning.
I turn out of the line to take the side entrance to work. A short delay driving into the parking area, but not too bad. Driving past the electronic sign saying ‘Welcome’, I see it says 8.32. Rubbish. No wonder parents have come in to say the sign has the wrong time, it does. Two minutes is crucial. If it said the correct time I would look up and think “I am on time”. But because of that sign having the wrong time, I doubt my car clock, my watch and the radio station’s ability to put the news on, on time.
The news just starts. I slowly crawl through the back of parked cars to find a spare spot.
My Principal strides out the front door of the building to go to parking duty. She sees my car sliding along at a snail’s pace. There are children walking on the paths in front of the parking bays. Crap. She looks at her watch, double crap. I slither into a park in her peripheral vision. Hopefully she remembers how I told her how hard it is getting ready of a morning, with these health issues I have. She isn’t a Miss Trunchbull but sometimes I imagine her that way. I’d like to be earlier, like everyone else. It’s not like I just got up out of bed. I have been up since six twenty.
It is only a minute or two, I arrived didn’t I? That’s better than not arriving at all.
I stop the car and plan my sneak into the side door of the staff room. Grabbing my bags quickly, I turn to open the car door, and realise…
I’m wearing slippers. Pink fluffy ones. Triple crap.