Today was one of those Mondays.

I had trouble sleeping last night - something which I NEVER have to worry about. I love my sleep. I don't think there is such a thing as too much sleep. I get quite sad when I miss out on sleep. So suffice it to say that wanting to sleep and not being able to actually do it? Super frustrating. I tried all sorts of things. Hot milky chai latte. Random block games on my iPhone. Playing with the cat. Reading. Sitting at the window at 2am and watching the cars drive by. Nothing worked! Couldn't sleep.

I managed to get about two hours of shut eye before my alarm went off (an alarm in the sound of a yowling cat at 5:30am - even I can't sleep through that one) and so began my day. I forgot about an appointment and ended up being late to that, which is another pet hate of mine. There was light snow here in London again, meaning my trains were chaotic and the weather was gloomy. I had to go the long way home because of signalling failures, and I was tired. Oh so very tired.

But the last straw? I nearly lost my shoe during the tube journey home.

Peak hour. It's just another perk of public transport in Central London on a Monday evening. As usual, we were all squished into our carriage like sardines. Some guy had quite literally squeezed himself through the doors as they were closing, and very thoughtfully dumped his backpack onto my feet, so as the train approached Notting Hill Gate station, I got ready to hoof it across the carriage to the exit.

Well, hoof it I did. With just one shoe* on, in fact! The guy's stupid bag had trapped my shoe. So what do I do? I stand there hopping on my one good foot, as a wave of other departing passengers push past me to get off the train. And what did the bag man do? Nothing. He stood there reading his newspaper and not paying me any attention what-so-ever.

I got a bit panicked then, and quite literally had to bellow "YOUR BAG HAS GOT MY SHOE!" at the top of my lungs while standing on one leg, and praying that I'd get out of the door in time. (Keep in mind that all of this happened in a 20 second timeframe - though it felt much longer than that!) He kicked his bag aside and I managed to hop over to my shoe and rescue it, throw him a filthy look and then RUN out of the train as fast as I possibly could without making any eye contact and trying desperately not to lose my shoes again.

*Typically, the shoes that I wore today were the oldest, crappiest black flats that I own. And typically, due to the aforementioned damp weather conditions and a pair of wet tights, my shoes were fairly whiffy.

Is it Friday yet?