You power through the day's official work because you need to be at home to do genuinely important ( but not life threatening) work of your own in helping to set up your new business. It's all ok, you're winning.
And then your car won't start.
And as you pull your lovely new CKidston spotty bag off the passenger seat in disgust, you notice that the pint of milk you're taking home for refrigeration has leaked. Which means the documents in your bag will be a bit whiffy when you hand them in at the bank tomorrow! And the helpful mechanic bloke from round the corner said he'd come over before the end of the day, which is entirely reasonable, but makes you feel neglected and well, put out. He says it sounds like the alternator's gone if the battery is flat. Huh? I don't really care, I just want it to work. A bit like the loss of broadband, or having your water turned off for a few hours, it is staggeringly inconvenient to live without such conveniences. I feel spoiled and Hilton-esque for complaining, but without a new alternator, what can I do?
Please, don't advise me about public transport, shanks' pony, or calling a friend. I'm enjoying the moany pouty fifteen year old that has sprung out of me this afternoon. She's likely dressed in skin tight green jeans and an orange t shirt and prowling around seeking attention. I'll leave you to figure out what hasn't changed.
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