Today started on a tidal wave of emotional negativity. I have reflected upon the circumstances and resultant stress and I feel that a blog post to share the ridiculous experience is warranted.
Do you ever have those days where they start to go wrong immediately; you perceive poor omens and believe that the rest of the day is just going to be a nightmare?
For me Fridays are normally good days, the weekend is beckoning and the spirits are lifted; however challenging things get in the office, a break to clear your head is just around the corner. I usually feel more cheerful on a Friday.
But not this morning – this Friday my day started by feeling more like a Monday (immortalised in a song by Bob Geldof and his rats of Boomtown, and officially the worst day of the week).
After another disrupted night’s sleep (thanks to my six year old daughter’s inability to be awake without waking up the whole house and inability to get back to sleep without prolonged vocal protest), the alarm went off at 6am and I dragged myself to the bathroom.
Whilst shaving I managed to cut my top lip, the red fleshy bit. “Bloody hell” I swore!
Cutting myself shaving is a rare occurrence, let’s face it; I have been removing stubble from the lower portion of my fisog for decades so I should be proficient with the razor.
Today though I was clearly not operating at par and caught myself with the blade. Only a pin prick kind of nick, we are not exactly talking about the need for stitches. But having stated that, could I stop it bleeding? Could I heck!
Next I put some clothes on to go downstairs to do some jobs and then get some breakfast – paper tissue held to face to stem the flow of O positive.
Today Mrs Baldwin wanted to use my car because she had more than our usual complement of children to move around. My first job therefore involved me moving stuff between our cars before I could leave for work. Today it was 3.5 degrees Celsius and pouring with rain so I managed the transfer of things whilst holding an increasingly damp tissue to my face and getting cold and wet.
Breakfast next, at least in theory. Upon arrival in the kitchen, I could smell poo. One of the cats had decided to have a dump on the floor of the downstairs loo (completely ignoring the litter tray).
So, already frustrated, my second job of the day involved clearing up a jobbie!
Breakfast, and I got to it eventually, was cereal (fruit and fibre) and a cup of tea; I proved that eating/drinking without opening up a lip wound is impossible. Cleaning teeth; same problem!
My lip finally stopped bleeding on my journey from Daventry to Milton Keynes. Was that the end of my woes, not completely – I discovered that Mrs Baldwin’s car had a deflating tyre that needed sorting out. And I only realised that when I parked the car up in MK. Grrrrrrrrr!
All this shenanigans meant that I was so cross when I arrived at the office that I had given myself a headache.
Just how stupid is that?
My view pretty stupid, and here’s my justification – my lip did stop bleeding; I dried out after being rained on; I got to listen to Snapshot, a terrific album from the Strypes on my way to the office; the car tyre has been pumped up and my headache went away. All that wasted energy and stress on being cross about nothing that significant at all.
Have you seen the Thomson Holidays TV advert featuring Dad the ogre gradually unwinding into a normal, sane person? The advert is brilliant in my opinion. I know this is a digression, the only bit the creatives missed was the scenario that as soon as Dad unwound, it was time to get back on the plane and go home! Maybe that’s just me being grumpy but the point of this tangent is that this morning I was – that ogre was me!
Were the poor omens for Black Friday correct? No of course not; just another day in the office! In fact things looked up even as I arrived – I scored a good result by beating our chief technology officer to the best mug in the cupboard. The sun even started shining later. My “lesson to self” is to try not to get so wound up that I become “Thomson the Ogre”.
Of course thinking about it is easier than doing it; my katana of grumpiness, perhaps unlike my King of Shaves five blade, is razor sharp. Wish me luck!
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Do you ever have those days where they start to go wrong immediately; you perceive poor omens and believe that the rest of the day is just going to be a nightmare?
For me Fridays are normally good days, the weekend is beckoning and the spirits are lifted; however challenging things get in the office, a break to clear your head is just around the corner. I usually feel more cheerful on a Friday.
But not this morning – this Friday my day started by feeling more like a Monday (immortalised in a song by Bob Geldof and his rats of Boomtown, and officially the worst day of the week).
After another disrupted night’s sleep (thanks to my six year old daughter’s inability to be awake without waking up the whole house and inability to get back to sleep without prolonged vocal protest), the alarm went off at 6am and I dragged myself to the bathroom.
Whilst shaving I managed to cut my top lip, the red fleshy bit. “Bloody hell” I swore!
Cutting myself shaving is a rare occurrence, let’s face it; I have been removing stubble from the lower portion of my fisog for decades so I should be proficient with the razor.
Today though I was clearly not operating at par and caught myself with the blade. Only a pin prick kind of nick, we are not exactly talking about the need for stitches. But having stated that, could I stop it bleeding? Could I heck!
Next I put some clothes on to go downstairs to do some jobs and then get some breakfast – paper tissue held to face to stem the flow of O positive.
Today Mrs Baldwin wanted to use my car because she had more than our usual complement of children to move around. My first job therefore involved me moving stuff between our cars before I could leave for work. Today it was 3.5 degrees Celsius and pouring with rain so I managed the transfer of things whilst holding an increasingly damp tissue to my face and getting cold and wet.
Breakfast next, at least in theory. Upon arrival in the kitchen, I could smell poo. One of the cats had decided to have a dump on the floor of the downstairs loo (completely ignoring the litter tray).
So, already frustrated, my second job of the day involved clearing up a jobbie!
Breakfast, and I got to it eventually, was cereal (fruit and fibre) and a cup of tea; I proved that eating/drinking without opening up a lip wound is impossible. Cleaning teeth; same problem!
My lip finally stopped bleeding on my journey from Daventry to Milton Keynes. Was that the end of my woes, not completely – I discovered that Mrs Baldwin’s car had a deflating tyre that needed sorting out. And I only realised that when I parked the car up in MK. Grrrrrrrrr!
All this shenanigans meant that I was so cross when I arrived at the office that I had given myself a headache.
Just how stupid is that?
My view pretty stupid, and here’s my justification – my lip did stop bleeding; I dried out after being rained on; I got to listen to Snapshot, a terrific album from the Strypes on my way to the office; the car tyre has been pumped up and my headache went away. All that wasted energy and stress on being cross about nothing that significant at all.
Have you seen the Thomson Holidays TV advert featuring Dad the ogre gradually unwinding into a normal, sane person? The advert is brilliant in my opinion. I know this is a digression, the only bit the creatives missed was the scenario that as soon as Dad unwound, it was time to get back on the plane and go home! Maybe that’s just me being grumpy but the point of this tangent is that this morning I was – that ogre was me!
Were the poor omens for Black Friday correct? No of course not; just another day in the office! In fact things looked up even as I arrived – I scored a good result by beating our chief technology officer to the best mug in the cupboard. The sun even started shining later. My “lesson to self” is to try not to get so wound up that I become “Thomson the Ogre”.
Of course thinking about it is easier than doing it; my katana of grumpiness, perhaps unlike my King of Shaves five blade, is razor sharp. Wish me luck!
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