Occasionally I think I’m getting the hang of this adulting lark.

This week, for instance, I consistently got to work an hour (or more) earlier than the week before (and most of last year if I’m honest). It meant making a huge effort to go to bed early and actually getting up when the alarm went off, and I also left my phone in the kitchen to avoid the one-eyed scrolling my mornings so often started with.

That’s pretty responsible right?

I even dressed up and went to a grownup classical concert yesterday afternoon, one of only a handful of under-70s in the place, not counting the orchester, and thoroughly enjoyed it.

I also enjoyed the hour or three I spent wandering around Berlin in the dark, meandering past and through shops and along highstreets, looking at lots of the things I don’t want to buy and a few I feel I should think about before buying. I came home with a stack of tea towels. Can’t get much more exciting than that, really.

I went shopping on the way back from the station and came home, ready for a posh hot chocolate and an early night.

So far so good.

I realised, at gone 9pm on a Saturday night, that the last loo roll was very unlikely to last until Monday morning. I promptly changed my going out boots for more sensible cycling shoes, put my high vis vest on over my going out coat, took my helmet and saddle bag off their respective hooks and headed supermarketwards…

Click.

…without my keys.

Argh.

So much for responsibility and proper adulting.

Time to call my landlord.

He didn’t respond the first time I tried.

The staircase isn’t particularly warm or comfortable, but I figured it was warmer and more comfortable than the yard, so I abandoned all plans of going shopping (and besides, who needs loo roll when there’s no loo?!). In my head I went through all the people I could feasibly phone and ask for a bed and how I was going to get there (I can climb over a gate, I’m pretty sure I can’t get my bike over one). Thinking about it now, since I’d locked the front door behind me as I’d come in, I was stuck in the stairwell between my door and the house door and wouldn’t have been able to get into the yard anyway – or to anyone else’s house.

I tried again. This time he luckily decided to answer and I was brought the key and could rescue mine.

Phew!

I made it to the shop on time for a record breaking (for me) whizz round and stood at the checkout at one minute to ten.

By the time I got home I’d forgotten all about the posh hot chocolate and fell into bed with a hot water bottle instead.

And that was the end of another eventful day.

***

P. S. It seems I haven’t changed much..

This is a post from almost exactly 6 years ago about late night loo roll shopping. And just to round things off, this is a post from a year and a half ago about locking myself out.