From chaos to tragedy... (mine and not mine)

Here's my day (the chaos bit) -- or the first few hours of my morning, really.

Find out Princess Sleepyhead's train has been cancelled -- and then, no, not her train but an express that leaves almost at the same time. Her train will be packed, and she has to get a wriggle on if she's going to make it. She already has detention for being late yesterday.

Sir Talkalot is running late (what a surprise!). Then he can't find his blazer.

"Who's taken my blazer? Where is it?"

I tell him he's supposed to organise his stuff the night before. I say this every day. He never does.

"I did organise it," he said. I know he didn't. He never does. "I hung it right here on this banister. Dad must've hidden it."

"He didn't hide it. It must be around somewhere."

Then I remember that I think I saw it somewhere strange. ST's convinced his father is conspiring against him.

"It might be in the other car," I say. The car's at the station. We drag PH down and she just catches her train. The blazer's in the car. ST has it hidden behind his back, as if I can't see the sleeves poking out, as if I won't notice that he's suddenly found it. "You hung it on the banister last night, did you?" He's somewhat sheepish now.

I take him home to get the rest of his stuff, which he doesn't have ready. We fire up the car -- no petrol. I know I have no money in my purse, but there's some somewhere in the house. Only I can't find what's left, which isn't much but will let me put some in the car before I get to the bank. I find where it should be and it's gone.

It's now time ST should be at school. I have no petrol and no money. But the other car has petrol. I go down the station and swap the cars over, blocking the car park for about a minute, in which time a disabled person comes and misses her train. I feel bad, but realistically the train was in the station when she drove up. She was never going to make that train. Doesn't excuse me blocking her path though. Frantically, I move the car to get out of her way and ask ST to get all the stuff out of the other car. When he scrambles back in, I ask him whether he locked the other car. No. Of course not. I go back to lock it.

I take him to school. Halfway there I realise I haven't got my bag or my purse. It's still in the other car. He says he didn't hear me say to bring everything. Last year our number plates were stolen at this station. I'm just hoping my bag will still be there. It is. One thing goes right.

So I'm really stressed and angry at this stage, and that always makes me want to eat, but instead I decide to take the dogs for a walk before the day becomes too warm. We're there less than a minute and one is pooping. When I clean it up I notice the other dog has too. So I clean that up and realise it wasn't actually hers. (It's cold.) Oh, well, good to leave the world in a better condition than you found it, right?

Do I get some kind of heavenly reward for this? Yeah, of course. As I'm returning from the bin, the toller is chasing the 25 kg retriever, who's galloping full tilt and looking back over her shoulder. Crash. Straight into my legs, which collapse under me. My back jars. My ankle wrenches. It's the ankle that I have so much trouble with, but happily it's not the usual injury. I'm sore. Bruised. But able to walk shakily back to the car after the quickest walk ever.

If I thought my day was bad (and it got better after that), PH was on a train on the way home, when a boy stuck his head out of the window (allegedly while trying to graffiti the outside of the train) and hit his head on a pole. He's now in hospital with severe head injuries. PH, luckily, didn't see it -- the boy was in a different carriage, but she's still upset by it. Really, my day wasn't that bad after all.