Shove an expletive where the sun don't shine

Given the way I speak these days, you could be forgiven for thinking that I'd moved to a submarine and not a modern city.  This morning alone, I said the F-word a total of TWELVE times before I'd poured my first cup of coffee!  In fact, I said my first expletive before even sitting up in bed, when I realised that I'd slept through my alarm.  Only by 15 minutes but this morning, every minute was precious.  

Chicago is playing host to the Australian Prime Minister today, and I am required to look after the Consulate.  This is not tantamount to being left behind while my colleagues have all the fun, either.  I need to be ever-present at the Office, existing on coffee and grilled cheese sandwiches (and please tell me there are still some meat pies left in our freezer) and just generally putting out any fires that might flare up over the course of the day.

And I don't take my work duties lightly, particularly not today.  So I felt justified in letting a giant expletive rip this morning when I realised that I'd slept like the dead and not heard the alarm that was ringing right by my head.  At this point we should probably pause to once again thank the boys for putting my gorgeous bed together.

But back to the story.  So I got myself dressed and ready in record time (thanks to some pre-planning done the night before - bags packed and by the door, ready to go).  Motoring down the street towards my bus stop, it was not even 7am and already my day had begun.  So I said the F-word again just because no one else seemed to have started their day so early (except my bus driver and a couple of other nutters riding the bus with me at the ungodly hour).

Arriving at work early in the morning is a real head-spin.  The Consulate is usually a frantic hive of activity, particularly in the lead up to today.  But this morning, the phones weren't ringing and the couriers hadn't started arriving, save for one UPS guy who accosted me in the elevator and thrust a package (not HIS package!) at me.  So I got to work, settled in, and put a strong pot of coffee on.  And right now I am enjoying some peace and quiet.  For once this morning, I am not swearing like a sailor and as my colleagues start arriving, I'm actually being pleasant.

But I have just been asked to wrap the Consulate's present to the Prime Minister.  Oh hell, I suck at gift wrapping.  I feel the F-word is about to escape again....