Escapism

I am an escapist, self confessed. Sometimes I wish I wasn't because so often I struggle to face reality. But usually it means that I can get away from whatever is going on around me by imagining myself somewhere much better. Sometimes, however, no amount of imagination can take me away from where I am. Today was a day like that.
It didn't start off brilliantly when I went to get a parcel from the Post Office... the most un-navigable place in Britain, and the most un-helpful staff in the world. But anyway, then I get to work to discover that I'm actually working till 6.30pm rather than 5.30. And with the most disrespecful, ungrateful, rowdy bunch of kids in the universe. I tried all day to see them through better eyes, and to remember that the God who loves me loves them just as much... but by the afternoon when they were fighting, answering back, swearing and chucking stuff around I just gave up. Even thinking about my holiday which I'm so looking forward to couldn't take me away from them.
Then, to make matters worse, the text I sent home to let them know i was going to be late didn't get through, and apparantly my brother needed the car at 6pm. So I had a fairly nasty phone call from him at 6.10pm.
I'm tired, worn out, fed up... and I have to do it all again tomorrow. I just wish I had the power to imagine it all away.