It’s too late baby…

I rush to the station, half running in a pair of Hugo Boss black pattent leather shoes. Comfortable? No. Sexy? Yes…albeit understated.

I know, I will be late for the office yet again. Nearly missing my first meeting. And then comes the excuses which by now starts to sound like a broken record. “I really did get up at 6.40 am. Well that and my usual morning run.” Was it necessary? Not really, but which made me feel all the better for it.

7 am
…I let my mind go blank for a moment, just aiming for the next corner, a far distant lamppost, the end of the canal. I do a few routines at home, and then let the dogs out whilst making a coffee for my husband. And then the first set of laundry. The house is in complete disarray after a shorter trip and a friend just having left. It needs a woman’s touch, but alas not mine.

I throw myself into the shower, counting my luck that I actually washed my hair yesterday. Sebastian get’s a bath too while Reinout is waking up. A few minutes later and he’s in the doorway, taking over the responsibility of Sebastian. I continue to top off my mascara and curling my hair. There’s a big pile of laundry waiting to be ironed. In contrast my so often over crammed closet looks rather empty apart from ¾ of space of cocktail dresses hanging neatly in plastic bags. I dash upstairs once more and find a pair of suit pants along with a white top which I hastily iron and pull on.

The doorbell rings. I think it’s the cleaners. Relief. But it’s not. It’s the owner of the cleaning company. She would like to chat about a new cleaning routine. I glance at my watch impatiently. “Does she really have to do this now?”
“OK” I say. “It’s ok, we can talk but I need to take out the laundry and put on a new batch.” Our tête-à-tête is done over smelly socks and sandy trousers. She doesn’t offer to help. But then again I wouldn’t have accepted.

Deal or no deal, I can’t take a decision on a Tuesday morning before work. “Send me your proposal” I ask, kindly but firmly.
She mentions the proposal once more in a tone that it’s evident this proposal will never find a mailbox let alone a piece of hardcopy.

“I just want someone to clean and iron for today. Just finish the job” It’s rapidly becoming my mantra.
The lady agrees but again asks me to accept her new proposal. Give me a break I think. Don’t you see I’m on my way to work, looking ever more impatiently at my watch to give a subtle, but hopefully effective hint.
She asks me to call her during the day. I contra with tonight. She accepts.
“And what about the rest of the week?” she asks.
“Just Friday, as usual. I need to think this proposal over.”

I throw myself on the staircase and dash down for my bags. Outside the air smells of damp pavement mixing with the exhumes of a passing car. I wait for a moment before stepping out on the street. Another day in making, and yet again I’m late.