Coffee??

Despite being enthralled by my own culinary abilities, a rather obvious lack of some other essential facilities render me ineligible as a candidate for domestic goddesshood. For example, if I had children, it is entirely feasible that I would (a) forget where I left them (b) forget to pick them up (c) forget to feed them (d) forget their names (e) drive off without them. Actually, I lie. They'd have gourmet taste buds by the time they were 4. Did I mention the front door didn't need more than a tug this morning to let me out? Could've sworn I'd actually shut it after I got home the night before.....
It has been a verrry long week, but there are limits to pitiful diary management. My vague remark about the lack of a coat as we queued to pay for lunch, had Sam launch into explanation about having run out for a coffee with a mate.... Coffee! Shit!! Luckily the lid's secure enough to stop an untimely cascade as my watch confirms the witching hour. That's where I'm meant to be. Coffee. Starbucks. Man. Date. Bugger!!! My soup and I make a mad dash, minus any intimate brushes with large, red buses. Only 5 minutes late, but distracted by thoughts of my poor soon to be shivering lunch and impending conference call, the banker was doomed to sink without a trace. And he did.
An exhausting week, broken by goofy giggles the whole way back, before severe glances from co-passengers had me admiring the roof of the lift with great dedication instead. 6 seconds and home free.... gasping for breath at the absurdity of it all, fourteen minutes to compose myself and seven to demolish my trusty companion in the bag before my call. Six and a half hours before I leave the week behind me. Still, I can now spell Székesfehérvár with impunity.