Why I avoid mornings.

Let’s kick this off with a story from 8am yesterday. I am not a morning person, but I still decided to get up early and do some chores before lecture. I hoovered, mopped, did the washing and…

I emerged from the flat hesitantly.

I could feel each tiny stone stick to my odd socks as I took a step, one foot at a time. I only had to make it around the corner to Ian’s work, but it seems like a trek up the Himalayas. I could feel the eyes of passing drivers burning into me, but I decided to hold my head high and pretend I was proud of the fact I locked myself out of my flat in nothing but a pair of shorts and a bra.

When I had heard the door click shut behind me, I just shrugged, sat down and told myself: ‘Okay, so this is my life now.’

I spent twenty minutes accepting my fate as a half-naked hobo before I came up with a plan.

I had gone outside to hang the washing up, so shoved a wet top over my head. It was still see-through, but at least I wouldn’t be arrested for public indecency.

This is the struggle I face, I make disasters happen every single day. It’s a miracle I’m still alive, I guess I have Ian to thank for that.

After what seemed like forever, I arrived at Ian’s work (and my dental practice.) I took a deep breath before I knocked on the door. I was hoping Ian would answer but instead I was greeted by the receptionist. She didn’t say anything. She just gave me the once over, sighed and yelled ‘Ian. Your girlfriend’s here.’

I heard him mutter ‘For fuck’s sake. She’s done it already. We’ve only lived there two days.’ But when he saw with my transparent top, odd socks and frankly revealing shorts, he couldn’t help but laugh.

He gave me his keys, and I went home, got changed, and hated myself throughout the whole of my lecture.

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