What a day!
By Emma Jones
An argument with the bank started the day badly. They
wouldn’t accept my password although I was 100% sure. The irritating bank clerk
wouldn’t have it and had helpfully froze my account. I now needed to complete a
complicated reactivation form she was emailing me with bank details I didn’t
have to hand. I rushed upstairs looking at my bulging filing pile and found a
bank statement. The pile toppled to the ground. Paper swished all over the laminate
flooring that I was now thinking was a terrible idea. I scrambled to pick
everything up shoving it in an untidy draw and added another job to the growing
list.
Back downstairs I fired up the laptop which whirled
painfully slowly. Eventually I got on the internet and found the email from the
bank. Ten minutes later it was completed and a new password would be winging it
way to me no doubt made up of a mind boggling array of lower case, upper case,
and symbols. I know the bank clerk was only doing her job but the inconvenience
had now caused a 45 minute delay and I was late for my dentist appointment.
I rushed out of the house only vaguely wondering if I’d
actually brushed my hair that morning. I turned up at the dentist late, hot and
in a bad mood. The parking had been horrific. A lorry had been blocking the
road and a man in a large Range Rover had decided to take up two spaces in the very
small car park. The receptionist smiled and told me not to worry as Dr Khan was
running late himself. I sighed and contentedly sat quietly reading a magazine
until I was called 10 minutes later. The peace had calmed me down so I was
quite happy as I sat in the dentist’s chair. “Any problems Mrs Wright?”
“No. Everything’s fine. Just a check-up.” I replied as I
settled back. He began prodding and then I heard an ominous sigh.
“Looks like a bit of decay here Mrs Wright.” He poked a
molar and I sucked in my breath sharply as pain surged through my tooth. “Does
it hurt?”
“Only when you do that.” I said sharply. “It’s been fine.”
“It’s only a small patch so maybe you haven’t noticed. It’s
best if we fill it today though to stop it getting worse or food getting
trapped.” I sighed resigned to a large bill and numb mouth as he injected my
gum.
An hour later I was back home sipping a cup of tea and
feeling a little sorry for myself. My gum throbbed uncomfortably from the
injection.
I got on with the housework ignoring the paperwork hiding in
the draw upstairs. It would have to wait till another day. Before I knew it the
time had flown by and I rushed to the school to collect the children.
Collecting the children from school was the usual cheerful
stampede. My son held out an odd wooden structure excitedly informing me it was
a bird house. He looked thrilled and couldn’t wait to put it in the garden. I
turned it around smiling as I looked for the entrance and rubbed my fingers
together as some of the glue was still tacky. My daughter pulling on my arm told
me all about her role as the cowardly lion in drama. The school was doing a
performance of The Wizard of Oz and she’d got a lead role. The only downside
was the school wanted contributions to costumes in the form of cash or crafty
parents. I did not fall into the crafty category only just managing to sew a button
on a cardigan so knew a cheque would be required very soon. I was looking
forward to the show in a few weeks’ time having learnt most of the songs myself
helping my daughter rehearse at home. I smiled as the children continued
chatting shooing them both out of the school gate and safely over the road. I
located the car to find my wing mirror dangling sadly. I couldn’t believe it! I
looked up and down the road but of course the culprit was long gone. A costly
trip to the garage would be required and I mentally rearranged my week to allow
time to get it fixed whilst trying not to swear and stamp my feet.
We managed to get home with no further problems although my wing
mirror kept swinging into the car door. Luckily it was only a short journey and
when my partner got home from work he managed to patch it up so I could safely
drive for a few days. He offered to call his friend at the local garage. I
smiled grateful he was sorting it out and checked my emails. The bank had been
in touch and I was reactivated and I realised my gum had stopped throbbing.
Things were looking up.
However I then noticed an ominous brown envelope from HMRC. It
was my partners but he was allergic to post and over the years it had become
one of my little jobs. I hoped it wasn’t an underpayment. My partner had a
company car and as a result his tax code had been incorrect years ago and we’d
been stung for £500. I ripped it open dreading what was inside. To my utter
surprise a cheque was enclosed. It turned out his tax code had been incorrect
again but this time in our favour. I rushed upstairs and located my partners
P11D and P60 from the mountain of papers stuffed in the draw and double checked
the figures. It was right. I smiled looking at the repayment for £423.13. Even with the dentist, garage bill and school
costume we’d still have money left. Today hadn’t turned out so bad after all
and although my filing system was unorthodox papers stuffed in a draw seemed to
work maybe I wouldn’t bother sorting it out after all. Bonus!