It was a little mortifying...

Call me a creature of habit, but my morning routine is always exactly the same:

• 6 am: Rise and shine- a new day has dawned
• 6 - 6:15 am: Blend up some juice from oranges, applies, pears and celery. Distribute to family
• 6:15 - 6:40 am: Drink magic juice and then embark on the arduous task of chowing down the Big Bowl of Cereal (i.e. 2 weet-bix, how many do you do?-- some bran-- and to round it off, some Special K)
• 6:40- 6:50 am- Bit of porcelain throne business while reading Grazia
• 6:50-6:55 am- Brush the old teeth and make them smooth, get rid of the old fuzz
• 6:55 am - 7:10am- Get dressed, make up and listen to the radio- hum along some, because it's the morning, y'know?
• 7:10- one final porcelain throne check and whizz out the door

Comprehensive morning routine, I hear you say?

Only the most comprehensive, says I.

Generally it works like a charm- except today, in an exemplary display of Mondayitis, I whizzed out the door after my final porcelain throne visit with my outfit slightly askew. Dreaded amongst girls and literally the stuff of nightmares, I tucked my work skirt into my stockings so that my round bum was exposed and ready to make its presence known.

If it weren't for my long Spring coat, the commuters on my train station would have screeched:

My eyes!

Instead, that honour was reserved for Mr Russia who, having gotten to work before me, then had the misfortune of walking behind me to the kitchen:

Y'do know that your skirt is tucked halfway into your stockings

he pointed out unhelpfully.

Are you serious? I patted around at my skirt and there it was-- all that material bunched up like half a tutu-- or a frou frou skirt-- except it was neither elegant nor fashionable.

I yanked my skirt out and giggled a bit. Then I pretended like I didn't care and asked Mr Russia about his weekend-- as if all of that hadn't just happened.

We pretended to have a boring conversation about our respective weekends (yada yada yada, I don't even remember what I or he said, because I was too busy trying not to look mortified) and my frou frou skirt wasn't mentioned again.