One of those days said mother hen

Oh I have just had one of those days.

The kind wear it would be far easier to jump back into bed, scuttle under the womb-like covering that is your feather down duvet and drain the day away with a cocktail of awful day time TV.
Let me pour my thoughts out too you;

I wake up to the sound of the blaring radio; Oasis - Why does it always rain on me. A sign, I should have grasped with both hands, but alas I was being optimistic. So I crawl out bed, pull on a pre-styled outfit (perhaps the only good thing about my day, at least the look was good). I scuttle down the stairs to make my morning cup of coffee. No milk. I pull out the bagels to make one. There has been a mouse in the cupboard eating them. Feel sick. Resist urge to vomit, go and brush teeth, pop in the shower, wash hair, get out, no towel. My hair, if you didn't know, is thick, very thick, very long, very curly. And so consequently stays wet for HOURS after showers, unless it is dried.

Arrive caffeine-less to the train station, with wet hair and an already bleak outlook on the day. Then, much to my amusement a little man (who looks alarmingly like a river beaver) pops out, fresh remains of doughnuts plastered to his horrid little moustache, and he says; "Train is delayed. We're trying to organise a bus or something..." and then waddles back into his little office.

One hour later after an experience in the death-taxi later (I could write a whole post on the trauma that I encounter, but I'll save you the upset), I arrive at college, hair still wet, an even bleaker outlook. But you know, hey ho, the world keeps spinning and all that jazz. Or so I thought.

Assignment was due in about…Oooo… 37 minutes ago, so I rush around typing on the prehistoric typewriters that the college generously label computers to finish it, hand it in. And then the stupidannoyingfreaking lecturer tells me that he’s extended deadline to tomorrow.
Sigh.

College finished. Woo hoo. The train. Is delayed. UNTIL 6 FREAKING 30. So I sit in the waiting room, trying to read a book that I’ve picked for one pound in the bargain bin to save myself from absolute boredom. The one pound part pretty much sums up the book. So I wait. And I wait.
The train eventually choo choo’s smugly into the station, I clamber on board, and am stuck next to every stereotype of the worst kind of passenger; clinically obese, hasn’t showered in the past 24 hours, long scraggly hair that is overlapping her section of the seat.

Basically and overall AWFUL day. Mother hen was right.

CONSOLE ME READERS!!