Not. Annoyed. (very)

I like to think I have a very Zen attitude to the universe. Don't sweat the petty things, and don't pet the sweaty things. When things happen such as traffic jams when you're late, flat tyres, house break-ins, stolen cars... I try to take a deep breath and remind myself that getting in a flap won't change anything. These things are beyond your control. And don't really matter on a wider scale.

I'm sure anyone who knows me would laugh at this. Zen? Clare? Ptchah.

Anyway. This post is me attempting to take a deep breath and NOT be Really Pissed Off about what happened to me this morning. And if you want a reason why you should read, then let's say this post has a moral. The moral is, Beware Plastic Bags. I had one, you see. A plastic bag, not a moral. Although I do have some of those I think, down the back of the sofa or maybe on top of the bathroom cabinet.

There was some rubbish in it. The plastic bag, not the moral. The rubbish was stuff like empty sandwich packets, the kind of clutter that accumulates when you go somewhere on the tram. But there was also a whole bunch of other assorted flotsam that had stuck to me throughout the day, because I am flypaper and I attract stuff. There were four brand new bottles of vitamin pills, for my PMT. Which is FINE, THANKYOU AND NO IT DOESN'T MATTER AT ALL THAT I HAVEN'T GOT MY PILLS but I'm getting ahead of myself. There was a half a bottle of mineral water. Two banana peels. A copy of the Celestine Prophecy. And two signed copies of Julia Darling's poetry books. It's this last that really bothers me. The rest (CP book + pills) is replacable, although relatively expensive by my standards. But the poetry was signed. A lovely message from Julia to me. Because she is lovely. Have I mentioned that before? Yes, I think I have.

Luckily I had just finished the Celestine Prophecy. which is a truly terrible book on so many levels, but that didn't stop me from being utterly gripped (and intrigued, in lots of different ways) from start to finish. Much like the Da Vinci Code, in fact. Except worse. I was reading it for research and anyway, I don't have to explain myself to you. Now where was I? Oh yes, so I read CP on the tram (in fact I read CP in the ad breaks during Shameless the other night, which amused Ally greatly), and when I got off the tram I only had a couple of pages to go before the end of the book. There was no way I was going back to the office without finishing it, so I sat on a bench, much to the annoyance of an old couple who had to get me to budge my plastic bag so they could sit down too. For which I am sorry. The old man offered the teenage boy next to him a blackcurrant sweet, but I didn't get one. I didn't really want one anyway. And I was quite glad they didn't do what the very drunk man on Blackpool station did at 11pm last Monday night, which was to read over my shoulder and then ask if it was the bible. We ended up having a loud discussion about God, because I told him I was an atheist. Which was fine, because I wasn't two pages from the end and desperate for nobody to interrupt. Which they didn't.

Er... where was I... oh yes, I had finished CP so that didn't matter so much. It's the poetry books I'm bothered about. But the Zen side of me says even that doesn't really matter, because Julia is bound to sign some new copies for me. I can just buy new ones. Overall I've only really lost about thirty quid. Think of it as a parking ticket. They hardly bother me at all.

Funnily enough part of the reason for the carelessness which led to the disaster, is that I was in a big rush when I left the office last night. Because I was late for my exercise class. I have this habit of really getting my teeth into pieces of computer code (which I write for a living) and I can't leave my desk until it compiles. Even though I know it's making me late. And in the end I have to leave it anyway, cos I'm already late and the compiler keeps sending me more and more little error messages of love until I throw my hands up dramatically and storm away from my desk in a huff.

And then when I arrived at the leisure centre I didn't have any cash, and they wouldn't take a credit card unless it was for a tenner or over, and I couldn't decide whether it was worth trying to buy a nose plug or maybe some armbands and there was a queue building behind me, so I rushed out the door to find a cashpoint, and I was feeling Very Stressed, so I tried something described in the Celestine Prophecy. You have to look at everything with love. Feel the beauty of the world, and the universe's energy will flow into you in a revitalising fashion and make you feel better.

It didn't really work. But I did notice a hairdresser whose outside wall was painted a lovely bright violet colour, and I thought if I'd had more time I might have popped in to ask where they got it, cos it might look nice in our garden. I was 20 minutes late for the class, but I arrived in time for the leaping-up-and-down bit, which is my favourite.

You've probably gathered by now that the plastic bag is no longer in my possession. Which is what happens, you see, if you leave plastic Tesco bags, with a litle bit of rubbish peeking out the top, under your desk at work. Overnight. Next to the bin.