That Time of Year

One year, I got flu and left my house keys at work. I thought I'd left them in my car, opened the car up to look for them and forgot to lock it again. Thieves stole my Satnav and my vintage light-up iPod.

Another year, I also locked myself out of the house. I put the shopping in the front door and the keys on the side, realised that I'd forgotten something and slammed the door shut. That time, I drove to Brighton, took Offsprog One and Offsprog Two to breakfast, borrowed a set of keys from one of them and drove back in time to put the food away in the fridge.

This year's disaster was narrowly averted. I went to the bank to pay the newspaper delivery bill, and also to check whether Stampit had taken money out of the account. I bought a rubber stamp from them for Pea Soup that was supposed to stamp 1000 images. I'd decided to stamp up some of the remaining copies descending from number 100 and do a limited edition of red and green Christmas covers. Alas, the rubber had a dent through it that meant I couldn't use it- it had deteriorated. I spent ages persuading them that there was a problem, and finally managed to get a tiny reduction in price for a replacement- which hasn't arrived in time. I wondered if I'd forgotten to pay for it, but I hadn't. It's just lost in the post somewhere. O the trials!

These things were too much for the annual brain-of-sponge fest caused by teaching intensely in the first semester. Brain-of-sponge is a regular occurrence at this time of year, and I try not to do anything too taxing most of the time. I thought painting red and green peas on a record cover might be a nice peaceful activity. Then I took on some extra marking work, then realised that I was 100 miles behind with Christmas shopping for a Christmas that might not happen, got the sub-edited proofs back from the sub editor that have to be looked at before she signs off for Christmas on Friday, the vacuum cleaner decided to blow instead of suck, the broken extractor fan in the bathroom is going to stay broken because I can't find an electrician to fix it (they've all gone back to central Europe because anywhere is better than here at the moment), I thought I'd forgotten to write the address on the envelope of the letter I sent to my friend in the USA (I hadn't forgotten), the curtains have started falling down, I accidentally smashed my favourite mug and one of Offsprog Two's flatmates has suspected Coronavirus so I'm worried all the time. And a lot of students are very upset because they have been isolated for such a long time, and they know I'll listen because I feel so sorry for their situation. So I can't sleep.

That might be why I walked away form the bank machine and left my card poking out of it.

Luckily, I know about brain-of-sponge fest. It happens every year, so I check for my keys. I even check that I'm dressed, it's that bad. So I checked for my bank card and... oh SHIT! You should have seen me run. The length of the High Street, like a flapping goose. There it was, a smirk on its little plastic face.

Ha ha, bank card. You didn't get me this time.

I hope Stampit.com feel really really guilty now. I have no festive Pea Soups to put on Bandcamp, and checking to see that I'd paid their invoice (I had) almost lost me my bank card. In January, I will have the annual celebration, 'I Survived Brain Of Sponge'. 

You can join me if you wish, all two of you!