I woke up this morning at 4.04am. That, in and of itself is not unusual - I often wake up at an early hour needing to visit the bathroom, usually because the baby likes to do a tap dancing routine on my bladder at some point during the night - you know, to keep herself entertained...
But this was no ordinary morning trip to the bathroom. I slipped out of bed and attempted to shuffle quietly into the ensuite so as not to wake Mr K. On my way in, I brushed my hand against something on the sink and it fell onto the floor. My worst suspicions were confirmed when the acrid smell of nailpolish hit my nose.
Yes - I had managed to knock a full bottle of OPI Vodka and Caviar onto the floor and it had smashed. Everywhere. I finally found the light switch and with trepidation turned it on.
My bathroom looked like a murder scene.
Cue half an hour of scrubbing on my hands and knees with a bottle and a half of acetone to try and get the polish off the floor and out of the tile grout. Lots of muttering - there may have also been a fair amount of profanity. The irony is that the polish never usually lives there. I took it out last night so I wouldn't forget to book a pedicure this week. The irony.
Finally I got back to bed only to find that between getting up and going back to bed that my side of the bed was now cold and my alarm clock had developed a weird humming noise. It has never done it before. Cue Mr K fumbling under the bed for the cord to pull it out of the wall. Five minutes later (I think - remember now there is no clock in our bedroom), my now futile attempts at sleep were again interrupted by the family of kookaburras that lives two doors down. Their cackling and calling, usually so welcome in the daylight hours, is an utter annoyance before sunrise, let me tell you.
Sleep now well and truly eluding me, I made the decision to get up. The grout is still stained a pale pink but I think I'll tackle that later. Can't bear to do it now.
I think it's time for a cup of tea.