Debit card panic
It was in my jacket, it was in my skirt, it was in the side of my bag. Oh my god is it in the dry cleaners? I’ve lost my debit card and that is such an ovary ache, I will have to re-input it into every single paying app. *all while frantically tapping self all over like you are giving yourself an airport security body search and a huge queue of more organised people is building up behind you* Oh, it’s here. In my wallet.
Posted insta comment with a typo or half finished sentence panic
Ha ha ha I am so witty. That is the perfect pun delivered in a loving and not remotely passive aggressive way. Shit it’s ‘YOU’RE’ not ‘YOUR’. Can you delete comments? You can’t, can you? Now everyone will notice and think I am illiterate.
Buying directional stuff panic
I am standing in the changing room. I am thinking that this jacket is AMAZING. The one item that will tie my whole wardrobe together in an up/down way. Or is it? Is it actually the worst? I’ve got the fear that if I walk away I will dream about the jacket forever OR if I buy it it will stare at me accusingly from the cupboard FOREVER. Just another memorial to my terrible shopping judgement.
I am never going to find a space. I should have taken the tube, what was I thinking, there are no spaces, I am going to be late, I can’t wait for the car devolution when we will all be transported by driverless cars and I will never have to feel this way again.
When a friend tells me she’s worried about moths. And I want to run (OK, Uber) home immediately. Because not my jumpers. Please not my jumpers. Not my lovely Madeleine Thompson cashmere that I haven’t even worn yet. Please not moths. Not moths. *buys every plastic moth bag known to man* *hermitcally seals everything* *can’t spell heremtically*
Already had three coffees panic
When I am invited to someone’s house and I hear the words ‘We are a no-shoe house’. And my pedicure is booked for the next day. And so my horned hooves are out in all their horror as I pad across their underfloor-heated, stained-white wood, trailing foot-druff. And internally I am screaming. So, probably, are they.
I’ve ordered something delicious. Delicious. I can’t wait to eat it. I am starving. LUCKY ME. One bite later. Is there garlic in this? How much garlic is in this? I’ve got a meeting/date. Will I just be a garlic cloud? But I’m HUNGREEEEEE.