Manic Monday

It’s the start of the week and another typical day here in the bubble. 

 

7.30 am and it’s time for the school run. This five mile drive to school never passes without incident and this morning is no exception.  Positively incensed by the ignorance of the super-school mom and dad who decide that rather than drive into the drop-off car park they will actually block the exit whilst dropping their kids off  in the street. Never mind the rest of us!! Quick blast of the horn and scowl. 

Forego the power walk and the gym this morning and return home for a housework-out instead.  I haven’t picked up a cleaning cloth since we got back from England over a week ago. Vacuum, scrub and dust for at least an hour but then admit defeat against the LA grime which filters into the apartment despite the window screens. Abandon plans to tackle the teenager’s bedroom.  That’ll have to wait. It’s Ex Wives club day and I’m off out for coffee.

10.00 am Ex Wives coffee morning. There are eight of us today –  all our partners bar one have moved to California to work on the same project.  No-one is looking forward to the next stage of the assignment when the men have to relocate to Saudi Arabia but so far only one wife has definitely committed to accompanying her husband out to the Middle East.  Everyone else in a bit of a dilemma as to whether to go or not. We’re all bored silly here in California where we have all the freedom in the world; being stuck on a compound in the middle of the desert sounds like no fun at all.  We console each other and agree to meet again in two weeks for lunch. What a life!

12.00 noon Head home and pay a visit to the post office.  It’s Monday so, just like back in the UK there is a long queue. Only two “windows” open and this being America nobody hurries themselves.  One of those moments of quality time to reflect and meditate. Can't help but overhear inane conversation behind me – one women complaining to the other that she has had great difficulty finding a Mother’s Day card suitable for her sister (?) I’m not surprised.

Quick lunch and then, revitalized, bravely set out with the vacuum again – there’s just time to tackle the teenage bedroom issue before the afternoon school run.

 

2.00 pm and it’s time to hit the road.  What delights can I look forward to on this trip? Stop at lights and realize the driver in the car next to me is eating some sort of ice-cream Sundae.  It looks very yummy and this guy will be a strong contender for my weekly “Multi-Tasking Whilst Driving Award” (last week’s winner was the woman  spotted in traffic on main street Pasadena with an i-pad balanced on her steering wheel).  Multi-Tasking whilst driving is positively encouraged in America; in-car dining facilities can make or break a vehicle sale -  never mind miles per gallon, it's whether the drinks holder take a super-grande-mocha-chocco-latte-frappe or not that counts. I speed swiftly away from the lights and leave Mr Whippy scooping up his nuts.

How was the teenager’s day? Surprisingly good - she was supposed to have sat a test she’d missed in history but the teacher had said she could do it the next lesson.  He then handed out the results to the rest of the class who had done the test whilst she was away and went through the answers.  That’ll be an easy one then.

Back home and I walk across the road to Ralphs to pick up some groceries.  I’ll do a big shop tomorrow –  living in a 5^th floor apartment, large shopping trips have to be planned with military precision and always involve several extra-strong reusable bags and a small suitcase. Today I just nip out spontaneously to pick up a few things for tea. We’re detoxing so it’s salad.

6.00 pm and hubby’s home unexpectedly early.  Feeling like a desperately bad housewife because he’s caught me on the computer again, I hastily assemble the salad.   After dinner we sit down and as the others can’t find a suitable alternative on any of the remaining 300 TV channels, I get to watch House Hunters and House Hunters International for the rest of the evening. 

9.30 pm and I realize I must have dozed off, either that or the unassuming British family buying a rustic little place in Spain have doubled their budget and magically morphed into a couple of wealthy Americans searching for something luxurious in the Caribbean.  It must be time for bed.

Oh the excitement of living in LA!