There's No Place Like Home*
The Rig Veda claims "By getting up early in the morning one also gets more time at his disposal for work as compared to late-risers. Scholar and thinkers get up early in the morning and contemplate.
Well, I'm never going to be a scholar or a thinker. Because I am not a morning person.
I am hopeless first thing in the morning. I can do gross motor functions. But my fine motor skills are shot to hell. I can remember my name. But asking me to remember a list of tasks is asking for trouble. I can speak in short sentences, so long as you don't ask me to conjugate too many verbs. But full conversations are out. It takes a while for my brain to warm up and start functioning properly.
Even on those mornings I have had my full 8 to 10 hours sleep, I still don't wake up all perky and bright. People who do amaze me. They seem to leap out of bed, ready to face the day head on. While I roll out of bed and try to remember which way the toilet is.
So this monring when people on the Tube started looking at me strangely, it didn't penetrate my brain. Okay, I was already behind the eight ball thanks to a slight hangover after a very boozy dinner with friends last night. In fact, it wasn't until after I had changed lines I noticed that the people around me on the Tube were taking a great interest in me. Or, more specifically, my legs. Which was strange in itself as I don't consider my legs my best feature. But hey, if people want to perve at my legs, so be it.
It wasn't until a bit further along the Piccadilly line that my brain started to kick in. Mainly because I was thinking about how warm my feet were. And then I started thinking about how unusual that is. And people had been looking at my legs.
You guessed it. I had left the house wearing my gorgeous, but not wholly work attire appropriate pink slippers (with multicoloured polka dots). Which, while comfy and stylish in a kicking about the house kind of way, maybe aren't the most sensible shoes to be wearing in a corporate law firm.
Luckily Dorothy Perkins is on the way to my office, so I was able to grab a pair of £25 black work shoes, and shove the slippers further into my bag, lest they be seen by a work colleague.
Sadly clicking my be-slippered heels and claiming there's no place like home didn't work. It was my first option.
Well, I'm never going to be a scholar or a thinker. Because I am not a morning person.
I am hopeless first thing in the morning. I can do gross motor functions. But my fine motor skills are shot to hell. I can remember my name. But asking me to remember a list of tasks is asking for trouble. I can speak in short sentences, so long as you don't ask me to conjugate too many verbs. But full conversations are out. It takes a while for my brain to warm up and start functioning properly.
Even on those mornings I have had my full 8 to 10 hours sleep, I still don't wake up all perky and bright. People who do amaze me. They seem to leap out of bed, ready to face the day head on. While I roll out of bed and try to remember which way the toilet is.
So this monring when people on the Tube started looking at me strangely, it didn't penetrate my brain. Okay, I was already behind the eight ball thanks to a slight hangover after a very boozy dinner with friends last night. In fact, it wasn't until after I had changed lines I noticed that the people around me on the Tube were taking a great interest in me. Or, more specifically, my legs. Which was strange in itself as I don't consider my legs my best feature. But hey, if people want to perve at my legs, so be it.
It wasn't until a bit further along the Piccadilly line that my brain started to kick in. Mainly because I was thinking about how warm my feet were. And then I started thinking about how unusual that is. And people had been looking at my legs.
You guessed it. I had left the house wearing my gorgeous, but not wholly work attire appropriate pink slippers (with multicoloured polka dots). Which, while comfy and stylish in a kicking about the house kind of way, maybe aren't the most sensible shoes to be wearing in a corporate law firm.
Luckily Dorothy Perkins is on the way to my office, so I was able to grab a pair of £25 black work shoes, and shove the slippers further into my bag, lest they be seen by a work colleague.
Sadly clicking my be-slippered heels and claiming there's no place like home didn't work. It was my first option.
*An ironic title, considering last night my darling gran told me I had to move out by Saturday. Wheeeeeee!
2 reddit:
hahahaha! Not to laugh at your misfortune, but I've done the same thing so many times. It's my morning routine - roll out of bed, get dressed for work and put my slippers back on. Then my feet are all toasty and comfy and I forget I'm wearing slippers until I walk outside...luckily I've never actually made it past the front gate in my slippers, people have no sense of humour (or decency to tell you you're not wearing any pants) on the tube.
Also, hi, it seems I am de-lurking.
I've not done the slippers trick yet but that's only cos I cycle to work so have to wear clippy shoes. Though I have forgotten my actual shoes a number of times and then tried to walk like a dork around the office in clippy cloppy cycling shoes all day. I'm all class, me.
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