Friday f*****g sucked. Not in a dramatic, interesting way. My hair wouldn’t get its act together.
The Circle line was subject to “minor delays across the service,” which meant everything was stuck.
I knocked my Diet Coke over in my drawer.
Accidentally hit DO NOT SAVE CHANGES after editing an entire article on the twenty-seven best pedicures in London.
And REPLY ALL in a moment of mental abstraction.
Not disastrously. But it still made me look inept in front of two hundred people, one of whom was my boss. Go me.
And then, of course, I ran into further “minor delays” on the way to meet my dad. Leaving me to charge into Starbucks grumpy and sweaty, with stupid hair, and there was Jonas waiting for me at the same table we’d had last time, with a muffin, and a hot chocolate that ha
