Lots of long days at work culminated in an email at about noon yesterday with the guy who was coming in for the night take over from me which read "I have a sore foot and is not abel to come for duty."
He's Indian, and while he's intelligent and hard working, his English is dreadful. Odd consonants get added to words - but only sometimes. He often spells mixer as mikxer, but not always... Its weird.
Anyway - that throws my day in the air. If he isn't coming in I need to get everything done by 6pm. Well, of course, nothing goes to plan. The tank is pumping out much slower than it should. I consider showering and changing while it finishes before going back to finish off in my civvies. I realise, however, that I will just get covered in the crap from the tank and will have to drive home with my jeans stuck to me leg in a nasty way. When I empty the tank I get covered, both legs, knee to ankle. About the only good call I make all day. I eventually stagger out of the door at 7:30 and head onto the road home.
The road home is paved with nutters. Its a stressful drive, but it passes, eventually.