Outage. Outrage. Utter disruption. Or a revelation about the levels of dependency on social media communications.

Ashamed. It was me. Monday. Late afternoon. Start of the school run which is a military operation. Son from partner’s Mum. Message daughter to walk home from school. Co-ordinating via a platform that was down. I didn’t know. I swore at my phone. How dare you mess up my routine. Home. Homework. Shower. Tea. Guides run. No margin for error.

The truth mirror was brutal. I have been seduced. Fighting for independence all my life. Slipped into a different dependency. Speaking to people has been demoted. And the weird thing. The opposite of who I am. A people person. Part of the ‘it’s good to talk brigade’. Two quick calls later and calm was restored. At what cost?

My day compounded. Painters in to get house ready for impending baby. I had used previous bar code on paint pot to get more. I didn’t open. Question. Check. Assumed. Walked in. All the walls were the wrong colour! Back to shop to get the right paint. Double that time the following day, with tail between legs, pleading with painter to rectify.

Resonate with your life? Need to slow down. Create space. Realise the ‘just in time’ model doesn’t work. Apparently I should be running WhatsApp.

I am in danger of becoming a robot. On autopilot. And controlled by others not me.

Get a grip Friday.

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