Some mornings you wake up and everything's rosy. 

The sun is beaming away outside; there's a smile on your face and a song in your heart (actually, I wake up every single morning with a song in my head, but that's a different matter) and you just know that it's going to be a good day.

Other mornings you wake up with a distinct feeling of impending doom, which you just can't shake.

These are the mornings when you just know that as you are walking up to the end of the road you are going to see your bus shoot past before you can flag it down. Or that a piano is going to fall on your head.

And then there are other mornings still, when you are woken by the sound of your phone receiving a text... and the blind panic kicks in before your brain does, because it knows, without having to think about it, that you have overslept, because there's no way that someone would text you before 7am... and then you look at the clock, and the fact that it reads 10.50am is a very, very bad thing indeed, because you're supposed to be in work at 8am, and in a meeting at 9.30am, and since you're most inconveniently not Doctor Who, there's no way that you can make it... and every single second of the next hour of blind unshowered panic is filled with you cursing the phenomenon of jet-lag from the very depths of your soul... which, in itself, is probably enough to grant you enough bad karma to last the rest of the day.

Bah.

And if that weren't bad enough, you then get into work and the first thing you do is blog about it, proving that you are a) addicted, b) have all your priorities wrong and perhaps this is where you've been going wrong in life for so many years, and c) a dickhead.