Tuesday, June 08, 2004

I was up and at'em this morning and would have been an hour early for work,(think it might have had something to do with the endorphins released by chatting to Mr. Sunday, Mr Thursday-Night, Mr Next-Monday and Mr Weekend-Later-in-the-Month simultaneously last night - good job I'd stayed on the bottled water, wouldn't have wanted to get those messages mixed up) but I decided to use the extra time to make an 8-mile, half hour detour to the car hire place to pick up the gym bag and other stuff that I'd left in the Astra boot. I didn't think I'd have time tonight and didn't want to leave myself with an excuse not to go see the Cheese Nazi and her Scales of Fortune.

My conspiracy theory proved to be valid again! They'd only just gone to pick the car up, from the garage which I pass every morning on my way to work. They promised they wouldn't be long and suggested I wait - so I did - and I did - and I did - I rang my secretary to let her know where I was (20 minutes before she would have expected to see me, and made sure I stood where she could hear the traffic so she would believe me and not think I was just making up ever more elaborate excuses for having over-indulged on the internet the night before and overslept), I waited so long that another 5 minutes didn't seem to matter. I was so pleased to see the shiny car drive in, and dashed straight across to the driver as he got out. Sure enough, he knew I'd left some things in the boot, but he'd helpfully left them at the garage!!!

So I'd waited best part of 45 minutes for nothing! I'd been had again by the vicious Evil Force that prevents me from getting anywhere early ever, despite my best efforts - and it's not like I hadn't phoned them first thing Saturday when I realised what I'd done - I'd been so careful to ensure that I safely removed Jack's Gangsta Rap rubbish (which I've found myself singing along to a few times now - worrying) that I'd forgotten all about the stuff I'd put in the back.

Oh well! I got my £50 fuel deposit back and filled a Customer Satisfaction Questionnaire telling them about the dodgy fuel gauge. I don't think I'll be Customer of the Month somehow.

I made sure the payment slip fell out of my handbag when I got to work so my secretary could see that I hadn't been making it up. I feel guilty even when I know I've done nothing wrong.

And now I have no exercise clothes or trainers and time to make up at work so there's absolutely no way I'm going to Fat Club - guess I'll just stay here and drone into the dictaphone for a while longer - I don't want to go online tonight 'cos I'm interviewing with my lovely new boss at 9.30 in the morning for my assistant's position and I want to be all bright eyed and bushy-tailed. I've got away with it so far this week but I can't run the risk of getting lured in by one of the deceptively-charming, but probable servants of the Evil Force that delays me everywhere I go.


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