A day, made

I’m terribly tired and woozy and hungry and grumpy and haven’t had coffee yet this morning. Even the sunshine is making me frown.

In an attempt to keep warm I’m wearing my kitty hat at my desk. You know the one. You’ve seen photos. It’s a grey crocheted beanie hat with ears. I adore it, but I’m in such a bad mood this morning I just feel stupid in it.

Fucking grow up, Justine. You’re not a child.

I am whingeing. I am scowling. I am growling.

Suddenly, someone knocks quietly on my door. I turn towards the sound and look through the glass panel, only just restraining my hand from grabbing a stapler and hurling it in that direction.

It’s Lynne, from the next door office. Lynne is a database programmer, like myself, very quiet, conscientious, shy. Maybe ten years older than me. Her pale face smiles back at me from behind the glass. I try on a welcoming expression. I’m not sure it’s convincing, but she seems to be encouraged enough to poke her head round the door. She clears her throat and says:

“Morning. I just wanted to tell you that your hat really suits you. It looks lovely.”

And with that, she is gone, not waiting for a reply and shutting the door softly behind her.

So I quite like the sunshine now. And the morning. And my hat.

And she’s left me her smile. It’s all over my face.