The Worst Day in the History of the World

Looking back it seems awfully ironic that last night my movie of choice was A Series of Unfortunate Events. I think I would have rather been locked in a car about to be hit by a train, or eaten by the world’s deadliest viper or flesh eating piranhas or even married to the mildly attractive disturbing Count Olaf, instead of going through what I did today.

Have you ever seen that show on Nat Geo called Seconds From Disaster? That was essentially me, before I put pants on today.  And that was where I went wrong. The moment I put on pants, everything went downhill.

me.                                                   –

I won’t lie, this morning I had a sulk. Not like a little sulk because the only episode of Geordie Shore on was a re-run of season 5 that I’d seen 3082 times. (We get it Charlotte, you love Gaz.)

More of a sulk like my uterus was trying to kill me and stop me from feeling anything but pain for the next 7 days. Also I was missing my love who lives on the other side of the world (and who still finds time to complain that he never gets a shoutout on my famous blog ).

Anyway it’s pissing down with rain (that’s the official term). Torrential stuff. So I have to walk to uni in the rain and also I would rather give birth than have this pain for another day.

And then my saviour comes. George Clooney. Not the real deal. Close. Just my mate who drinks a lot of Nespresso. Also he’s Italian. He’s ten minutes away. “Guess I better put some pants on then”. The beginning of the end.

George Clooney arrives. He’s had the world’s worst morning. It’s not quite period and long distance relationship bad. But he was stranded at the mechanics for five hours. This time I’m not exaggerating. Five hours. For one tiny pinprick hole in a tyre. I’d imagine even smaller than the ridiculously pretentious glass Nespresso mugs he makes me drink my caramel latte out of at his IKEA showroom apartment.

me trying to fit in with George Clooney                                                             –

We’re about to leave the house when I remember I want to bring a whole block of Toblerone to the lecture “just in case”. He doesn’t complain. That’s true friendship. As I lock the door I remember to put the alarm on like my Dad had reminded me 6 times that morning (might be exaggerating on this one). My house is low-key fort knox because my dad would like to one day be Liam Neeson.

Side note: I never put the alarm on because my dog is an alarm, but poor pup dog Charlie had to have an operation on his leg and was still at the hospital.

Update: Charlie pup is all g now. Four legs still, I counted.

I then realise that my phone is still inside the house. Travesty. Oh and I’ve temporarily forgotten the passcode for the alarm. Bummer. This is embarrassing.

George Clooney says “Don’t worry when you look at the alarm box you’ll remember the code.”

Never trust George Clooney.

Inevitably, I punch in the wrong number. I try again. And again. The alarm begins.

I don’t think anything could have prepared George and I for the ear-peircing noise that my alarm makes. It was like the moment Harry retrieves the egg from the first task of the TriWizard Tournament and Ron’s decided to forgive him and they open the egg in the griffindoor common room. Exactly the same sound (maybe).

me to the world’s loudest house alarm –


Of course the keypad is now locked. I call my Father who gives me the incredible advice of “maybe try putting in the passcode (which i’ve now remembered)”. Genius Dad. Hadn’t thought of that.

10 ear-bleeding minutes later and we’re on the phone to the alarm lady asking her to switch it off manually for us. “Oh there’s nothing I can do from the office but what you could try is putting in your passcode again to turn the alarm off”. Bloody genius Sandra. We hung up.

Could solve the North Korea problem with that brain Sandra –

Anyway. Long story short after 20 minutes of what I now know to be the world’s most annoying noise (up until now I was pretty confident it couldn’t get worse than listening to my millionaire cleaner tell me all about her cosmetic surgery for 38 minutes), by some act of God, the alarm turned off.

We were both too scared to move for fear of setting it off but eventually ran out the house and jumped in the car before we could hear it start again.

We walked in late to the lecture and ate the entire block of Toblerone.  Then had caramel lattes in pretentious glass Nespresso cups. No Ragrets. Tomorrow I will chance it and not wear pants to see if that helps. Keep me and my bleeding ears in your prayers.












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