This is for my girl that had a bad day at the office

"Ladies and Gentlemen" - starts the conductor on the train - "we would like to apologise for the slight delay of this service today. This is due to ..." and a ridiculous excuse follows. It does not matter, it is only a couple of handfuls of minutes that you lost. Or like when you get stranded in an airport for seven hours, then rerouted via Heathrow, stopped at the UK Border for unknown reasons, long enough, though, to miss your connection and had to wait another hour.

It is only your time. Or your money that goes, for some banker that fucks up. Your council services: library, bin collection, recycling and so on, because of incapable politicians.

The project you work for grinds to halt because your boss simply does not get you only have two hands, she's on the rags, or whatever.

I tell you what: you feel stressed and robbed. You sweat it, grind it, scrap until the last bit of energy, I know.

Too much of your day depends on somebody else.

And these somebodies, let you down, regularly.

When your turn comes, instead, flexibility loses all its nice features. Never a penny more than agreed on the payslip. No moving deadlines. No relaxed attitude for your papers or presentations. Always expecting you to be on the ball.

But there they find you, on the bloody ball, until you drop.

Our reward is their face when we pull off another one, when it was almost reasonable to fail.

Because your face in the mirror is what counts, yours the only eyes whose gaze you seek every day. That gaze that approves of you, defies you, pushes you.

That gaze that makes you perfect, inspiring and beautiful, and so lovely