one of those days

Today was one of those weird, wonderful, wacky days that deserve a mention on the blog.

Firstly, I overslept my alarm. By 3 hours.

Luckily I had nowhere important to be, and nothing urgent to get done. Spent much of the day doing very little study.

At 4:00pm, I’m heading off to tutoring with my Sudanese family. Do you remember that game we use to play as kids, where you were only allowed to say ‘Sausages‘? And whatever anyone ever said, you had to respond with ‘Sausages‘? It was as if the family’s three year old was stuck in a game of ‘Sausages‘, but instead of saying ‘Sausages‘, he was throwing out a ‘what the f%*k‘.

Which is kinda wrong… but very hilarious.

At 5:00pm, I am trying to leave their house, phone in one hand, holding back the 8month old from eating an entire bowl of lasagne with the other, dodging the now long-sharp-stick-wielding three year old, spelling out ‘Pochahontas’ for the five year old, and trying to explain the intricacies of the Trinity to an inquisitive nine year old who couldn’t figure out how Jesus is both the Son of God and God. Honey, I don’t think any of us have quite figured that out yet.

At 5:15pm, I’m safely home and in the bathroom ready to beautify. A lethal combination of naturally unobedient hair and ridiculous humidity has wrecked havoc on my hairstyle and nothing is making it any better. I decide spraying my brush with hairspray and brushing it through might at least ease the frizz. Hairspray bottle is nearly empty. Countless attempts to spray brush are unsuccessful. And then, the moment I move the nozzle away from the brush and turn it more in the direction of my being, the floodgates open and I’m choking.

At 5:33pm, I am wondering why I ever trusted Coles for makeup products. My new powder brush smells like sheep at the Ekka and is dropping bristles by the second, leaving me with a fake, but somewhat convincing Movember-esque edition to my upper lip.

At 6:00pm I’m finally ready to leave the house, only to be met by a vicious gang of… you guessed it… plovers. On my street. Right at the bottom of my driveway. I looked like an idiot trying to get past them and into my car. I felt like an idiot when I finally realised a neighbour was standing about five metres away, silently pulling out weeds.

At 6:30pm I’m lost in Rosalie. At 6:40pm I discover I’m not lost in Rosalie, but looking the wrong way down the street.

At 7:10pm, I’m awarded ‘The fidgetiest fingers, cutest most-likely-to-be-a-serial-killer*, nicest hairstyles’ award…which was definitely a highlight of the year! Apparently I knocked out all the other cute most-likely-to-be-a-serial-killer with my big luscious, overly hairsprayed hair – win!

At 8:40pm, I realise my weird, wacky day has gotten oh so much better and I enjoy chowing down on some good Thai and lots of laughing with my three most favourite SOSC3211 girls.

At 9:30pm, I try and reverse out of the carpark in first.

*The ‘most likely to be a serial killer’ part is based on a random personal joke that will neither make sense, nor provide any amusement if I were to explain it. However, it is worth noting that in no way do I desire to become, or be most likely to be, a serial killer – no matter how cute they might be.

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