Typical Kitty Chapter 1: Why Rain?!

Nothing ever works out how you plan it to does it? Even the most organized person in the world experiences at least one glitch in life and I feel sorry for the people who aren’t necessarily interested in being organized at all. I suppose I’m one of those people though and yes that does make me just slightly hypocritical for criticizing a category I seem to fall in but I’m just trying to tell things how they are! I do that a lot, I just ramble on and on about a subject I don’t know much about, try to make myself sound intelligent and informative about it, when in actual fact my brain is not worthy enough in size to compete against a stegosaurus’s (for those of you who don’t know a stegosaurus’s brain is as big as a brussel sprout; it doesn’t really do the poor creature much justice but it was a plant eater, I suppose) But saying that, it wouldn’t be physically possible for my brain to be so small as scientifically proven (I think) So maybe it would be more accurate to say my common sense and knowledge spans the length of a walnut; now that’s better.

Don’t you think it’s ironic that an advert has just appeared on TV with the quote ‘now that’s better’, no? Well I do! OK, the advert gets played at least once an hour but still…It just seems fitting to say it’s ironic. Ironic is one of my favourite words. When I first heard the song by Alanis Morissette in 1999 I couldn’t stop singing it, I found most of the irony humorous such as a black fly in a chardonnay and rain on your wedding day; I mean that happens a lot so it can’t really be irony can it? But to be fair I would be rather unimpressed if it rained on my wedding day (If I ever have one which I’m hoping I do).

Can you tell I’m bored? I’m just stood here in my little corner of the shoe store waiting for some rich little lady to walk in and ask me to walk up the 20 plus steps to find her the second shoe in her chosen design and size, so she can try the shoes on together exclaim that they don’t fit and can I…yet again…walk up the twenty plus stairs to get her the larger size so she can smile at my exhausted expression, humour at the expense of my precious energy and say that she doesn’t quite like the shade have we got a different colour?. By the time the lady has finished I have just finished a DIY fitness test and clambered up and down a total of one hundred and twenty stairs, but what I then find even more infuriating is the fact that she notices the price tag that seems to be printed in size twenty Arial font and for all my efforts claims the shoe is simply just too expensive for her granddaughters wedding. That such incident occurred this morning when I began my shift and now four hours, five more irritating customers and five hundred plus stairs later the custom begins to slow.

I won’t deny that I’m relieved. I hate my job, I hate it more than anything in the world yet I still do it? I suppose the idea of leaving and having to write an entirely new CV is putting me off finding a new job but I can’t stay where I am- It’ll bore me to my grave! If falling down the stairs and breaking my neck doesn’t happen first that is.

Fantastic! It’s just turned five’ o’clock and I have finally finished my shift! Time to hit McDonald’s and treat myself to a strawberry milkshake! Yes I am excited now. Oh God, Its pouring. I have just exited the shop doors and my very nice, straight blonde hair is getting frizzier by the minute it’s like an electric shock in slow motion! This torrential downpour is not supposed to occur mid-august! Damn weather! I should have read the weather report before coming to work, but that would mean starting one of those irritating habits many middle age people have and watching the news just to see the forecast!

I suppose I could check on the internet when I first wake up although it would add an extra ten minutes onto my morning routine therefore I would have to wake up ten minutes earlier just to check the weather report….nah I think I’ll leave it. Oh dear, looking to my right I can see through the extraordinarily large windows of McDonalds and looking past the five year old blonde kid picking his nose, ergh thats disgusting he’s putting it in his mou…ergh! Past the couple looking romantically into each others eyes, past the group of baseball hat clad teenagers sat in a very big group huddled together, most likely planning their next vandal attack and yes...there we are...the queue, the queue that appears to be hours long. I think me and my afro will leave a milkshake for now.

Instead of running towards McDonalds I head left and make my way to the bus stop which seems completely deserted it has me baffled as the shelter-less bus stop is the busiest it’s ever been, I hide behind the shelter and my confusion ends here, A drunk has unceremoniously spread himself over the bench in the bus shelter. He smells, I mean he really does have a stench, one of whisky, smoke and BO. Oh dear god that’s gross. I need air! I check my watch, I’ve still got 10 minutes till the next bus, they run every half hour, so I decide to walk to the other stop providing I don’t vomit first. I’m now halfway between the stops and what is that I see? my bus! It’s at the stop I’m heading to. Right question time, do I run to the stop where the bus is and risk the bus leaving before I get there? or do I run back to the stop where the drunk is and risk the bus driving straight past if I don’t get there quick enough? I’ll take option two! I’m now running back to the makeshift hostel the drunk is currently in possession of and oh for heavens sake! The bus is going, going and yes it’s gone straight past the stop I was running to! Now I have to wait an extra half hour in the awful rain without an umbrella or a jacket with only a drunk for company…well I’ll scrap that idea I’m walking to the next stop, the one without a corpse. Ok, that’s weird I’m not getting wet anymore yet it’s still raining. I look up and find that I’m now stood under a dark umbrella held over me by…wait for it…a very handsome man! His hair seems like molten gold even under the shade of the umbrella and those twinkling, light blue eyes circled by gorgeous dark lashes are looking at me mischievously. I’m astonished and uh-oh my gormless expression might scare him off…well it will scare him off! Think cool…cool…

“Hey” I smile sweetly at him, nice going I tell myself.
“Hiya” He replies, such white teeth…so sparkly….stop it! How can he still smile at me? I’m a disgrace! A soaking wet mess! My make-up must be everywhere! Think calmly!
“I’m Kitty” My brave stab at making conversation appalls even me, Kitty? Why Kitty? Why not Kitrina? It sounds so lame now!
“Sean” He holds out his hand and I shake it, it’s so warm and soft! Resisting the urge to hold on I make another attempt at conversation.
“Thanks for the help” I point at his umbrella and he laughs
“It’s nothing, I find it an honour helping pretty young ladies in distress” Yes he’s certainly a Lancelot…er-hem…
“Do you usually do things like this then?” I ask jokily, hoping laughter will calm my kangaroo nerves. He laughs again…such a nice laugh…
“I don’t usually get chance” I find that very hard to believe, England gets very wet. Pushing the thought aside that it is completely insane and number one on the list of mothers ‘do not do’s’ to flirt with a good-looking stranger(although she ignores her own rules plenty of times) I precede with my tactics.
“Where are you off now then?” I ask casually hoping it’s not too forward and I’m going to freak him out.
“To visit my nan” He’s blushing….how sweet!
“That’s nice, it reminds me, I should pay mine a visit too and she’s only down the road”
“Where-abouts?” He asks. Why he wants to know where my Nan lives is beyond me but I may as well tell him, it’s not like he’s going to throw rocks through her window.
“At the Phoenix Home” It’s a residential home for the elderly just down the road and I try so hard not to go there because there is one elderly man who always thinks I’m his daughter and causes a riot when I try to tell him I’m not, last time that happened all the elderly people began to throw pillows at me and when a couple of them couldn’t manage pillows they pulled out the stuffing from large holes in the sofas and threw that at me instead, I had nightmares for weeks! So you can imagine the look on my face when the next thing he says is:
“Wow! That’s where I’m heading; My Nan has lived there for the past two years! Why don’t you come with me you can visit your Nan too then?” Oh God. I would love to spend more time with this wonderful man but I hate that place and what’s worse is that our first date would be at a nursing home. What on Earth is the World coming to? But I can’t say no because then he’ll think I’m some typical teenage girl who thinks old peoples homes are lame! What to do…what to do…
“Come on, Kitty, It’ll be fun!” I’m starting to think this man is a little bit peculiar…
“Ok” I agree with the best attemp at a grin I can do at this particular moment and off we go, nattering away like two people who have known each other for years. I need help. Serious help.