Yesterday was not a

good day.
The early rising part did not bother me. I didn't mind the usual shower and hair wash or breakfast or getting one load of washing on the line - all before I needed to pedal off to the doctor.
It's all right. There was nothing seriously wrong. I needed a new prescription for regular medication. 
But, it was hot. It was very hot. I did remember to take the litre container of water with me. If I had been sensible I might have taken two litres of water with me.
I arrived at the clinic. There was one other person in the waiting room - seeing someone else.
I had to pick up two other prescriptions - one for the Senior Cat and one for Middle Cat. I did not look at those when the receptionist gave them to me.
C..., our GP, actually seemed pleased to see me. She is currently reading Nicola Morgan's "The Teenage Guide to Stress" and we talked about that. There was nobody else around in the heat so I took the whole ten minutes instead of prowling off after just five. It's not that I don't like C... I do. I just feel she has plenty to do and I don't need to stick around.
But I pedalled off in the heat. I thought of "visit Middle Cat, visit chemist, get home OUT OF THE HEAT". And then, something stopped me. I was waiting to cross a major road. I thought, "I'll get the prescription for Middle Cat out ready...."
I pulled out the three prescriptions. There was no prescription for the Senior Cat. They had given me the prescription for Middle Cat - and another one for Middle Cat's BIL. 
I turned around and pedalled back. I got the right prescription. I did not growl at the receptionist although I wanted to growl. I delivered Middle Cat's prescription - only to discover that she could have picked it up herself because her other appointment had been cancelled.
"I'll be around later with the exercise thing I've bought," she told me.
Right. 
I go to the chemist. I see three people I know lurking in the cool of the shopping centre. I try, unsuccessfully, to avoid. I want to get home OUT OF THE HEAT!
The chemist is busy. I have to wait. I buy fruit and carrots - and forget to buy potatoes. I collect the Senior Cat's prescription. I pedal home. By then I have consumed the entire litre of water. I drink another half a litre straight down. I put the second load of washing on the line and bring the first load in. The Senior Cat supplies me with a properly cold drink - to cool me down. It helps only a little.
I put our lunch in the oven - quiche. I make salad. I answer more e-mails. 
Middle Cat turns up with the exercise machine for the Senior Cat. It is a simple device. He can sit on a chair and pedal this thing. It is safer than other forms of exercise. The two of them start to put it together. Things go wrong. 
Lunch is cooked. I leave it one "keep warm" and answer more e-mail. I write a lengthy letter to the editor - at the request of someone who works there. I write some instructions for something else.
There is a cheer from the kitchen. Middle Cat and Senior Cat have the exercise machine working. Middle Cat eventually leaves. Lunch is overcooked. I bring in the second load of washing while the Senior Cat clears the mess away. We eat the overcooked lunch. ("It's very nice even if it is a bit over done." I love the Senior Cat.)
Struggling through the seemingly endless e-mail and two academic papers which should never have been written the door bell rings.
I answer it and find a friend there. She looks at me and says, "I need a proper cup of tea and I've come to tell you my tales of woe."
Oh. Right. I put the kettle on. I listen. I know she has problems - and this one included an ambulance for her husband. She stays and talks to the Senior Cat for a while. I look some information up for her. She leaves. I answer the phone twice and sort out another problem. I get back to the work I am supposed to be doing although I am hot and sleepy.
There are two more interruptions and then I make the Senior Cat an evening snack. I deep water the pot plants to keep them going in the overnight heat. I start to watch the international news service.
The phone rings again. I answer it. This time it is a  "Hello. It's Ged Kearney here, President of the ACTU..." She goes on to apologise for the recording.
I do not want to listen to a recording. I do not want to listen to Ged Kearney. I am not even sure that what she was doing was legal. The ACTU is not a charity. It is not a political party. They are the only callers exempt from the Do Not Call Register.
I hung up.
I found a piece of chocolate. I ate it. It was that sort of day.