The Tortoise and The... Hare

It's 9.08 a.m., and I'm crammed into a tiny toilet cubicle at work, frantically changing clothes and smoothing down my wet, unruly hair (I cycle to work), when I have one of those sudden flashes.
You know: one of those moments of truth - a timely insight into your life, your state of mind, your daily plight.
A five-second stock take.



And that's when my inner voice whines: would you just look at you?? You spend four fifths of your life in a constant hurry. You rush from place to place, commitment to commitment... with only the odd hour's respite here and there. Your head is spinning most of the time - if you stand up too quickly, you feel light-headed. Your bag always contains a change of clothes, deodorant and a spare nappy (not for me, I stress). Here you are, scrambling around trying to tame your hair into some kind of style, at 9.08 a.m., just so you can slip behind your desk by 9.12 a.m. and look poised enough to fool anyone (your boss) into thinking you've been there diligently since 8.30.

This is my life. Is it normal?

I wonder whether it has to be this way. Perhaps I am partly to blame. I mean - wouldn't it all be just a little simpler if I didn't insist on cycling everywhere? If I could just resign myself to the concept of sitting patiently in traffic, rather than racing between crèche, school and work on a pushbike, sometimes with a 13-kilo kid strapped on the back?
Maybe. But that old cliché about sport being a drug has some truth to it.
There are days when I look at the car, and the grey sky, and the drizzle, and I consider my options. But even on the days when the car wins out, I end up cracking somewhere along the way (usually as soon as I spy the tailend of a traffic jam...), dumping the car back home and switching to two wheels.

It's the freedom, the addictive part. This much, I'm sure of.
But the downside, of course, is the haste, the sweat, the change of clothes, the messy hair.

So now - insightful flash over - it's 9.10 a.m.
I dab at my sweaty face, clip my hair up, sigh, unclip it.

And as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I realise that actually - all things considered - there's just one thing that would make my life easier.
Just one, small, barely significant thing, that would make the hectic timetable of my life a little gentler to implement, help me win back precious minutes.

Why oh why oh why can I not have hair that falls into place naturally???