I want to lead the Victorian life, surrounded by exquisite clutter.
If you speak to my mother - my real mother Trisha, not my host mother Louise - she'll try and tell you that I'm perfect. After me complaining that it's not true, she'll relent and tell you that I have one flaw. Mess. And that is spectacularly true. Much to the despair of my father - my real father Michael, and most probably my host father Jean-Pierre - things in my hands tend to get abandonned when they are no longer needed. I subconsciously put off putting away my laundry. I scatter make-up across my work top instead of putting it back in the bag.
I'm then stuck in my room at 8:15am on a Wednesday, in my underwear, wet hair, no make-up, looking for a pair of tights I've thrown in a random drawer, to wear with the only dress that matches the only long sleeved shirt I can find, with a heap of discarded clothes at my feet that don't work because it's too cold or I can't find the other half of the outfit, and I haven't packed my lunch, and my room should be tidy for my host family's houskeeper because she's coming today, and I also have sports class, and my sports bra is in the wash, and one of my sisters have borrowed my shorts - but I don't know which sister - and my kit bag is full of clothes from the weekend when I stayed at Brenda's house and I have to give my laundry to the housekeeper because otherwise she gets upset and most of it is in the corner but the rest of it is spread elsewhere and I can't let her wash this or that because it'll get ruined in machine and oh my god I have science today and I know my folder is at home because I had homework but I haven't seen it since then and I'm going to need to wear a hat because otherwise my wet hair will freeze and I musn't forget my glasses wherever they are and I need to put my deodorant with my sports stuff but it's run out...and the bus will be here at 8:30.
I am also a slob. Yes, really. A girl wanting to embark on the journey of a princess who currently labels herself slob. And occasionally slug.
Let me put it in perspective. Today it is Sunday. Last night I was at a dinner party. I crawled into bed around 1am. So fair enough, I got up at 10:30 this morning. I ate a brunch of cereal and a croissant, and came down to the basement to computerise at around 11. It is now...1:30. I am wearing a big, grey, men's shirt, fluffy shorts and bootie slippers. My hair, face, teeth and body are unwashed. There's an ex cup of tea somewhere near my right hand. I'm going to school to help with a function at 3:30.
I always used to be late. I've managed to tweak this to generally on time (if you don't include school days - I've only missed the bus twice, but usually I do my make-up at school before class and dry my hair with the hand driers). But it really knocks me for six if someone requires me to be early. For example, some people helping at the function have to arrive at 1:30 today. If they call me now and ask me to come in, what am I going to do exactly?
If I don't have anywhere to be, I never get ready.
So, setback three: messy slob