This week has not been going so well. I thought perhaps I could blame it on a full moon but noticed while I was putting the recycling out for the 23rd time the other night that it was only three quarters. Bugger!
Perhaps it’s because I turn 51 years today that I have been subconsciously dissenting by sabotaging all that I have tried to achieve this week.
Maybe I’m just unable to ‘crisply breeze’ through life like the 30 year old something that I feel and I need to get over it and accept that I’m slowly losing my marbles.
The first example of this week’s calamitous happenings was on Thursday when driving back from dropping Molly off at netball the car engine, out of the blue, started to sound like a dozen rocks in clothes drier. For once I wasn’t on a main road, at the lights in peak hour traffic, small consolation. I pushed the dreadful thing over to an entrance out of the way of passing cars. At the very moment I dialled the tow truck company a delivery driver arrived to make a delivery through the gates I had just efficaciously parked in front of. The driver offered to help me push the car forward out of the way but to do this I needed to restart the car and put it in neutral which would risk blowing the motor up altogether judging by the god awful noise it had been making. I started her up, said a small prayer to the car gods and ‘roll me in butter and call me a flounder’ if it didn’t sound normal. The two men standing beside me glanced at each other and I could swear there was at least on eye roll. The car is currently at the mechanics probably costing a fortune while they hunt for the cause of the mystery noise.
Example number two: I decided, in total recklessness to make a cake for my birthday. Not just any cake but one I had seen on Masterchef made by a gifted and experienced pastry chef. I say again ‘losing my marbles’. I gathered the ingredients which included twelve bars of expensive chocolate. Friday night arrived and I started to temper the chocolate to make the decorations. I put it all in the bowl except one piece which I ate, as you do. It was at this point I discovered my error. The chocolate was soft centered and would never temper. Another look at the packet revealed the horrible truth.
I had paid a small fortune for chocolate that was no good for my recipe. Another trip to the shops the next morning and I arrived home, chocolate in hand, ready to go. Before starting I double checked what I had bought. I discovered, incredulously, that I had got it wrong again. I have three words, ‘LOSING MY MARBLES’. You look at this packet though and tell me you too wouldn’t be fooled into thinking this was white chocolate. To quote a friend ” at least coconut starts with c”.
I eventually managed to make the cake and had a lovely meal with friends that night with lots of praise for the delicious cake which had caused so much grief.
These are only two misfortunes, there was also the sunscreen which exploded in my lap on our way out yesterday, the discovery of an absent wallet when going grocery shopping and subsequent drive home only to discover it had been on the floor of the car all along.
I have two questions, firstly: what on earth am I going to do with the ridiculous quantity of chocolate I have left? Secondly is this how I can expect life to be from now on, going from crisis to crisis because my brain has finally tipped the scales and is on its way to zero cells at an alarming rate of knots?