Tiredness: Why I never make it through a whole film
7am: Get up. Go downstairs. Turn off dishwasher, bathroom light and X-box that Leon left on last night. Throw yesterday evening’s chocolate crumbs in bin.
7.10am: Shower. Exfoliate anything and everything with vigour. Wash hair. Spend 10 minutes with each ear under shower to rinse out conditioner.
7.20am: Apply body lotion, facial wash, moisturiser, SPF, eye cream and mound of mascara. Rub at bits of mascara that escape in brow, eyelid and, inexplicably, forehead. Roll on deodorant and flap arms. Open wardrobe and stair into abyss.
7.30am: Sigh. Put on clothing selection. Look in mirror. Sigh again. Head downstairs.
7.35am: Make breakfast whilst also making lunch, emptying dishwasher and taking out recycling. Ignore what number of Pringles packets says about diet.
7.45am: Clean teeth whilst making bed.
7.48am: Wipe dripped toothpaste off duvet/clothes/carpet/fiancé.
7.49am: Gurgle with Listerine. Consider putting in eyes to make self feel more awake. Decide against.
7.50am: Apply make-up at speed. Hope ‘slapped’ look will die down. Do needless tidying that could definitely wait ’til later. Look at time. Gasp. Grab handbag.
8am: Run downstairs. Unplug iron, regardless of whether Leon has finished using it. Remind him for the 900th time to shut bathroom window and lock front door. Wish him a pleasant day and leave the house.
8.05am: Leg it to tube station. Curse self that what could be a nice leisurely walk always turns into panicked sweaty half run.
8.20am: Take deep breath, tense muscles and get on tube. Open newspaper. Pretend to be invisible.
8.50am: Push through carriage full of angry people. Get off tube. Tweet most irritating occurrence.
9am – 5.30pm: WORK.
Whilst working also think: What shall we have for dinner? Did I leave my straighteners on? Are there enough tops in the laundry to justify a colours wash? Whose birthday is it next? When was the last time we changed our electric toothbrush heads? Will he have remembered to shut the bathroom window?
5.30pm: Travel home. Work out if have enough food in fridge to avoid going to supermarket.
6.15pm: Arrive at supermarket. Resist temptation to punch self-service screen and shout “I’LL GIVE YOU AN UNEXPECTED ITEM IN YOUR BAGGING AREA IF YOU DON’T PLAY BALL!”
6.45pm: Get home. Remember immediately who left house last at sight of erect ironing board and shadow of the GODDAMN bathroom light.
6.50pm: Go upstairs. Change into comfortable ‘house clothes’. Look in mirror and promise to throw said ‘house trousers’ (old old old jogging trousers that have never experienced jogging – unless running to the sweets cupboard in the X-Factor advert break counts) away very soon.
7pm: Ring Leon’s mobile. Get no answer. Ring work mobile. Get no answer. Ring work landline. Get no answer. Assume he’s gone to gym/is listening to iPod/enjoying half an hour’s peace before returning to alleged domestic bliss.
7.05pm: Eat bowl of crisps.
7.08pm: Regret eating bowl of crisps.
7.10pm: Start cooking. Whilst cooking, put on load of washing, hang up clothes still in machine from last night, wipe table, open post, arrange post into ‘for shredding’, ‘for filing’ and ‘for some joker who hasn’t lived here for years but just can’t be arsed to change their address’, and shake out toaster.
7.30pm: Put Coronation Street on. Or if it’s not Monday, Wednesday or Friday put Eastenders on and wish that it was.
7.45pm: Grate cheese. (I don’t know what I’m cooking in this scenario but it’s fair to assume cheese will be involved.)
7.50pm: Eat large handful of cheese and have to grate more.
8pm: Welcome Leon home from gym. Tell him not to sit anywhere or touch anything until he’s had a shower. Make witty comment about benefits of switching off electrical appliances before leaving for work, which he ignores.
8.15pm: Eat dinner. Share every detail of day, including BOGOF deal I managed to score on favourite tomato and red pepper relish.
9pm: Stand next to him as he loads dishwasher and point out what he’s doing wrong. Agree to retire to lounge when told to keep beak out. Watch secretly from sofa.
9.05pm: When joined in lounge, say with confidence I definitely can stay awake through a film if he puts one on.
9.10pm: Put sofa blanket over me and rest eyes while he chooses a DVD and turns off all lights (proving he does know where the switch is).
11.30pm: Wake up during credits.