I went out to my lecture yesterday and came back, in the rain, and bundled myself through the door, and cooked my lunch and settled down to eat it and two hours later was into my second cup of tea and doing some actual work when my flatmate got back from her lecture and presented me with my by now very damp purse which had fallen out of my bag onto the door step and lain there for two solid hours.
I was out in town not long after that and after a few hours of shopping was about to get on the bus home when a girl turns around and says to me, ‘is this yours’, holding up my phone.
Currently I am waiting for the taxi driver who found my iPod in his cab at the end of the night last night to call round with said iPod and I am very tired.
The stupid thing about all of this is that during the day I was stone-cold sober, and that even in the evening I wasn’t very drunk (no, seriously, don’t look at me like that! I may have gone round for dinner with M and H, and there may have been gin and whisky and champagne and wine and things involved, but I honestly didn’t, actually, get that drunk!).
It’s been months since I’ve been this disorganised and forgetful this frequently. Yes, I am often late or running late, and I haven’t got that one sorted, but these days I always have certain things with me – iPod, phone, keys – and I don’t ever leave things behind or fail to notice if I accidentally drop something or if something falls out of my bag. Without even realising it I have taken my eyes off the ball and I don’t know why or how. It’s infuriating, I’ll tell you that much, because it’s quarter past one in the morning and I am waiting for the taxi driver and I am so tired.
I can’t wait to get home.