Friday, really was a truly hilarious day.
One of those days in fact, when you just think: It doesn’t get better than this.
It went along something like this:
I thought I had it covered. I had a list and everything.
Really. I started off in a nice relaxed mood this morning, as my husband took my son to the clinic for me, in order to have him weighed and pick up his new prescription. He’s not a baby. He’s 12. But apparently he needs to be popped on the scales so we can be given the drugs that stop him climbing out of windows and unhanging doors and unscrewing toilet seats and stashing empty, moulding milk cartons in his wardrobe and hiding homework in random bushes. My son has severe ADHD, you see.
It wasn’t enough to be popped on the scales in 19 days at his next actual appointment. The receptionist said that he needs to come in today.
I have a deep fondness for receptionists.
Anyway, I felt confident this morning. And very excited. Though somewhat nervous. Especially given that I have four children and I regularly spend oodles of time with receptionists.
You see, I have finally come to my decision, I have signed up to NaNoWriMo.
The whole signing up caused me so much giddiness this morning that I began the day by pouring milk into the sugar bowl, instead of onto my cereal.
No matter. I rinsed it out and giggled gleefully.
I checked off my updated list ‘rinse milk out of sugar bowl’ and called the eye doctor.
You guessed right. I wanted to
grab an earful have a chat with another receptionist. I’ve been collecting styes again. Thanks to my immune suppressants.
Unfortunately, she refused to reply so I had to settle with ‘attempt to buy shoes for two children’.
I bundled an array of legs and elbows into the car and proceeded to drive right past the shoe shop. Toward the eye doctor, in fact.
I turned the car around and chuckled to
alarmed used-to-it legs and elbow owners (I did try to blame it on the book) and managed to buy gym shoes for one child.
My list had included a plan to purchase ingredients for and prepare in advance a few healthy meals, to ease my duties in November.
On tasting I discovered, however, that I’d forgotten to put the beans in the minestrone and I’d left the carrot and orange soup stockless.
Then my helpful teenager chopped the tomatoes but left them on the tabletop instead of popping them into the pasta sauce with the rest of the ingredients.
It bubbled away for its full 45 minutes before I actually managed to notice.
But still, determined, I ploughed on making a lovely tomato tart except the pastry refused to be separated from the buttered flan dish so I found myself forced into chilling it for tomorrow instead of freezing it for next month.
Meanwhile my generous five-year old shovelled out the chilli.
I attempted again to call the eye doctor but as it turns out he’s off on holiday for just over a week. Not enamoured at the thought of yet another pusy eye I decided to contact my GP. Well you know what I mean. His receptionist.
I got through but for the life of me I couldn’t remember the name of my stye prescription so she insisted I call the chemist where I regularly pick up my eye drops.
Naturally, I called the wrong chemist who had no idea whatsoever what I was blabbering on about.
But at least she kindly gave me the number for my actual pharmacist.
As it turns out I still don’t know my German letters properly (even though I have lived here for a full eight years) so I had to ask a couple of times, then wrote down z’s and f’s and y’s where there were absolutely none.
I tried to call the receptionist back, but she’d intermittently had the cheek to take another call, so the line, naturally was engaged. I hung around, with all the time in the world, recooking sauces and burning my tongue off in the chilli comparison test.
A few minutes later she answered my call and I listed out z’s and f’s and y’s where there absolutely were none and she refused to give me any medicine. With hindsight I’m pleased. What if it had been the name of a real medication for vaginal warts or something and I’d have glooped it into my eye?
I apologised profoundly for being an idiot foreigner and I called the chemist all over again.
I explained, you know, that I’m an idiot foreigner and that although this is now my home country I can’t even get the alphabet right and she took mercy on me and offered to spell out the name again.
Cleverly I had intercepted my own stupidity and I had asked the internet what possible medications could be offered to me by my friendly chemist.
The internet had given me a multiple choice of answers but with the help of the lovely lady and one non-pusy eye I managed to work out which medication I should take.
I called the engaged receptionist.
Finally, I spoke to her. I thanked her for her patience and lack of dispensation of vaginal wart cream and she sympathetically offered to have the prescription ready in half an hour.
I told her that although I couldn’t wait for our next meeting, I actually could because I needed to find beans for the minestrone and pick up my sons ADHD medication.
When I finally returned home, I opened my sons pills to see they had only given us enough to last us for 12.5 days. Even though our next appointment isn’t for 19 days.
Better still, we must order the tablets four whole days before we need them.
I started to clean and prepare for tomorrow’s lesson with my new student. I looked forward to making ‘novel notes’.
Then the phone rang.
Head lice alert.
I spent the following two hours dragging a bloody nit comb through conditioned hair.
I’m happy to report
those two wasted hours that thorough search revealed not a single louse in the house.
I live the high life, I tell you.