When a number of people live in the one household there are going to be times when you wonder just how you're going to make it all fit. Too many people, too many places, too little time. You know the deal.
Late the other night the chief recipe tester and I had a protracted planning meeting trying to work out the logistics of the following day. It required the strategic thinking needed to plan D-Day. The morning we could handle. The afternoon was somewhat more challenging.
After a morning at work: me at the kitchen, he at the usual office venue, I had a meeting scheduled. This was a professional-type meeting to which I needed to bring my A game. My kitchen attire (and accompanying foody-pong) were to be left at home.
I raced home for the world's fastest shower and change. During the meeting the three junior recipe testers would require collection. Because I had completed the deposit of juniors in their requisite locations, I had the car.
The chief recipe tester had ridden his bike to the bus stop and taken the bus to work. He had arranged some leave so he could collect the juniors. He did, however, refuse to dink them home on his bike, and requested the car.
I then had to catch the bus to my meeting. No problem. I drove my clean and sweet-smelling self back to the bus stop. On the way, I hit a bird. Clearly it did not look before crossing. It flew into the front bumper of the car, and made an awful noise. Now, I know it was worse for the bird than for me, but all I could think was, "I do not have time to clean bird out of the front grill" and "What will the chief say when he finds that??"
I ran to the bus stop, jumped on the bus and phoned the chief recipe tester to tell him where the car was parked. He was in a taxi trying to ensure he was back in time for the juniors. I didn't mention the bird. In fact, he's just reading that bit. Right now.
Because I had a further work engagement immediately following my meeting I had to plan how to get from the meeting back home to collect props and then head to my evening engagement. I had to call in the big guns. I needed the grand matron recipe tester, recipe source and culinary trainer. I call her Mum.
In order to communicate to Mum where I needed to be collected I thought I could efficiently and electronically send her the meeting details. Somewhat startlingly for the person I was meeting, I effectively invited my mother to a business meeting. That sorted, I waited on the appointed street for my lift.
My mother is a stickler for the rules. To be fair, the sign on the street did read "No Stopping". So she didn't. I opened the car door and inserted one leg. I then had to hop along the road a few steps while the rest of me got into the car. I was so grateful for her assistance I thought better of commenting.
There are some, a disproportionate number are aged under 8 years, who wake up in the morning "full of beans". Then there are those of us who wake up realising they only have one bean. And someone has taken a bite out of it.
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