What a day!
By Emma Jones
An argument with the bank started the day badly. They wouldn’t accept my password although I was 100% sure. The irritating bank clerk wouldn’t have it and had helpfully froze my account. I now needed to complete a complicated reactivation form she was emailing me with bank details I didn’t have to hand. I rushed upstairs looking at my bulging filing pile and found a bank statement. The pile toppled to the ground. Paper swished all over the laminate flooring that I was now thinking was a terrible idea. I scrambled to pick everything up shoving it in an untidy draw and added another job to the growing list.
Back downstairs I fired up the laptop which whirled painfully slowly. Eventually I got on the internet and found the email from the bank. Ten minutes later it was completed and a new password would be winging it way to me no doubt made up of a mind boggling array of lower case, upper case, and symbols. I know the bank clerk was only doing her job but the inconvenience had now caused a 45 minute delay and I was late for my dentist appointment.
I rushed out of the house only vaguely wondering if I’d actually brushed my hair that morning. I turned up at the dentist late, hot and in a bad mood. The parking had been horrific. A lorry had been blocking the road and a man in a large Range Rover had decided to take up two spaces in the very small car park. The receptionist smiled and told me not to worry as Dr Khan was running late himself. I sighed and contentedly sat quietly reading a magazine until I was called 10 minutes later. The peace had calmed me down so I was quite happy as I sat in the dentist’s chair. “Any problems Mrs Wright?”
“No. Everything’s fine. Just a check-up.” I replied as I settled back. He began prodding and then I heard an ominous sigh.
“Looks like a bit of decay here Mrs Wright.” He poked a molar and I sucked in my breath sharply as pain surged through my tooth. “Does it hurt?”
“Only when you do that.” I said sharply. “It’s been fine.”
“It’s only a small patch so maybe you haven’t noticed. It’s best if we fill it today though to stop it getting worse or food getting trapped.” I sighed resigned to a large bill and numb mouth as he injected my gum.
An hour later I was back home sipping a cup of tea and feeling a little sorry for myself. My gum throbbed uncomfortably from the injection.
I got on with the housework ignoring the paperwork hiding in the draw upstairs. It would have to wait till another day. Before I knew it the time had flown by and I rushed to the school to collect the children.
Collecting the children from school was the usual cheerful stampede. My son held out an odd wooden structure excitedly informing me it was a bird house. He looked thrilled and couldn’t wait to put it in the garden. I turned it around smiling as I looked for the entrance and rubbed my fingers together as some of the glue was still tacky. My daughter pulling on my arm told me all about her role as the cowardly lion in drama. The school was doing a performance of The Wizard of Oz and she’d got a lead role. The only downside was the school wanted contributions to costumes in the form of cash or crafty parents. I did not fall into the crafty category only just managing to sew a button on a cardigan so knew a cheque would be required very soon. I was looking forward to the show in a few weeks’ time having learnt most of the songs myself helping my daughter rehearse at home. I smiled as the children continued chatting shooing them both out of the school gate and safely over the road. I located the car to find my wing mirror dangling sadly. I couldn’t believe it! I looked up and down the road but of course the culprit was long gone. A costly trip to the garage would be required and I mentally rearranged my week to allow time to get it fixed whilst trying not to swear and stamp my feet.
We managed to get home with no further problems although my wing mirror kept swinging into the car door. Luckily it was only a short journey and when my partner got home from work he managed to patch it up so I could safely drive for a few days. He offered to call his friend at the local garage. I smiled grateful he was sorting it out and checked my emails. The bank had been in touch and I was reactivated and I realised my gum had stopped throbbing. Things were looking up.
However I then noticed an ominous brown envelope from HMRC. It was my partners but he was allergic to post and over the years it had become one of my little jobs. I hoped it wasn’t an underpayment. My partner had a company car and as a result his tax code had been incorrect years ago and we’d been stung for £500. I ripped it open dreading what was inside. To my utter surprise a cheque was enclosed. It turned out his tax code had been incorrect again but this time in our favour. I rushed upstairs and located my partners P11D and P60 from the mountain of papers stuffed in the draw and double checked the figures. It was right. I smiled looking at the repayment for £423.13. Even with the dentist, garage bill and school costume we’d still have money left. Today hadn’t turned out so bad after all and although my filing system was unorthodox papers stuffed in a draw seemed to work maybe I wouldn’t bother sorting it out after all. Bonus!