Sod's Law...

Why do things go wrong, just when you don't want them to?

Last week, I discovered that my all-time favourite Kookäi work trousers' zip had decided not to function properly. For a few days, I kept the pants hung over my bed rail, cursing them as the weather was becoming more and more inclement and so I was being forced, against my will, to have to wear skirts. After some minor home surgery on them last night, I fancied that the zip problem was solved. Therefore, I was somewhat distressed today to discover that whenever I laughed or coughed (both things I do a lot: a) because I find it hilarious to wind my work colleagues up and b) because I never seem to have a cigarette out of my hand these days...) my zip burst open. Now, you may think to yourself, so what? Well, the zip is located in the rear of the trousers and thus rather more difficult to remedy if you aren't actually aware it has happened. I am only glad I was not wearing either lurid coloured knickers, or a thong...

After I had displayed my 'George at Asda' knickers (£6.99 for five pairs!) for the umpteenth time that morning, I decided to make a flying visit home and change the trousers. Could I find the ones I wanted?

Nope...

I could only find the ones whose zip is broken at the front. Yes, I could have worn a skirt, but that may have drawn unwanted attention to the fact that I had had to change and then the questions would have been asked and the snarky comments begun...So, all afternoon, when I laughed or coughed, the zip would snag down and catch the skin from my belly in its travels. Aforementioned belly now looks like a small rodent has gnawed at it.

I only get a measley 45 minutes for lunch, so it was almost straight back into the car. And, what did I initially get in front of?*** The recycle wagon, whose driver took great delight in parking alongside a parked car, blocking my way. The so-called civil servant - you know, the ones who are allegedly employed by the government to work for us, took great delight in staring me out with a supercilious grin on his face, as if to say, 'I'm big; you're not. You just have to wait for me - haha!' When he finally inched his way forward so that I could finally pass, he waved at me. I returned his wave with a 'universal hand gesture'.

I then got behind a driver who appeared to take every single road marking to heart. Wherever it said SLOW, he slammed on the brakes. In a 60 mph zone, we ended up crawling at 25 mph. And I get quite severe road rage from time to time. After yelling at the top of my voice (which he obviously couldn't hear), "Crap or get off the f*cking pot!!" he pulled over on a bend, just after the traffic lights. Boy, was I hopping mad. Particularly as my temporary company car has as much guts as a filleted fish and simply does not like the idea of overtaking.

Upon my return to the office, I was had by my colleagues. We have a Secret Santa established, which I am simply not going to explain to anyone who doesn't know what it is, and, as I called off from a lengthy, complicated, techie phonecall, I was immediately asked, "So who did you get in Secret Santa, Agnes?" I responded accordingly, in truth, and was then treated to a tirade of abuse that I couldn't hold my water, that I was a gob-sh*te, and nobody ever tell Agnes anything...blah, blah, blah. Good job the person for whom I am buying wasn't there, I guess...

Anyway, I hope you lot realise that I am blogging when I really ought to be reading Turgenev and getting my head around the father figure in the story. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, stopping me from studying. So leave me alone because I am a very important person...

***For the pedants amongst you, yes, I know I started the sentence with 'AND' and finished it with a preposition. So what? I know...