Well, nothing so dramatic really, but it was indeed a difficult birth, so much I can confirm. I'd woken with my usual alarm at 06h30, turned it off, rolled over and gone straight back to sleep.
I woke with a start at 8h18. My usual train leaves at 7h45. I was late. Seriously late.
Clothes on, teeth clean, head under tap. Face washed, shoes done up, mobile found. Bag on shoulder, out the door, back for a wee. Remember watch, turn off radio, lock the door.
And so, at 8h34 I found myself sat on a train, stunned, feeling like I'd been teleported from one world to another. The journey from bed to train was 16 minutes. No time for coffee. No time for breakfast. No time to sit on the edge of the bed with my head in my hands going "why me, Lord, why me?" whilst rocking from side to side. In fact, no time whatsoever for my usual morning rituals.
Now, I'm at my desk and I want to cry.
It can't be right that work happens every single day for five days in a row, can it? How is this possible?
Is this really the great plan for human beings? What happened to hunter-gathering? What happened to the life you see in movies?
In movies, even if they have to go to work it looks like fun. Apart from in Schindlers list, maybe. That factory didn't look like fun. But better than the alternatives, I suppose.
And that's the crux of the problem. Is this life better than the alternatives? Well, if the alternative is no life then sure, it's much, much better. But that's not what I'm getting at.
Is this way of life better than the alternatives? Is this the best life I could have for myself?
Maybe it's the fact that I'm overwhelmingly tired. Maybe it's the fact that this year is the big birthday. But whatever it is, I want off of this treadmill.
I want to be the Lone Ranger, riding off into the sunset with Tonto by my side.
For the Lone Ranger, tomorrow was a new start, a new adventure, a ride on a horse and a gunfight.
It was never, ever, the 07h45 to Nanterre.