Storming the Castle... erm.. Airport

So this morning I'm picking Andre up at the Airport.
It was a typical moment in the life of me, and it went something like this:

6:10

• Alarm goes off
• Decide that that is waaayy to early as I don't have to be at the airport until 8am. What was I thinking???
• Remember that I decided last night that was going to wash my hair so that it looks pretty.
• Decide my hair looks pretty enough and reset alarm to 7:am

7am

• Reluctantly get out of bed and enter dark bathroom
• Light candle (yes, friends, we're back to candle-lit showers because I'm too lazy to figure out how to re-install my ghetto lightbulb that Andre knocked off the wires the LAST time he was here)
• Shower by candlelight

Plod downstairs and turn on computer. Read Reddit for 10 minutes.

7:30am

• Realize I have to BE at the airport in 30 minutes to pick up Andre and I'm not dressed
• Run upstairs making a mental note of the location of my mobile phone
• Peer into closet and mentally dismiss the outfit I had selected last night as hair is not washed and slightly non-pretty hair does not match completely pretty outfit.
• Glance at watch and grab jeans
• Locate black camisole
• Run back into bathroom and slap on some slap, by candlelight, and hope I'm not making myself look like the missing member of Twisted Sister
• Return to location of last sighting of black camisole and become baffled because it is no longer there.
• Search frantically for black camisole: under the bed, in dresser drawers, under the covers, in the bathroom, under the bed again (not sure why). Become convinced that someone is fucking with my head because the black camisole was RIGHT THERE 2 MINUTES AGO.
• Yank open closet door to locate alternate outfit that doesn't require a black camisole.
• Fix eyes on black camisole hanging oh-so-innocently with my bras as if it hadn't just crawled across the room and jumped onto a hanger in the closet.
• Get dressed, run downstairs to grab flight details... which turn out to be still AT THE OFFICE despite the fact that the last thing I did before leaving was print them off to take them with me
• Yell "GRRRWAAAAWWAAWHAHHH!!!" which is the sound someone makes when they face the incontrovertible realization that they are braindamaged.
• Boot up work computer to locate work email with flight details... computer cheerfully refuses to connect to the wireless network
• Frantically search through stack of paper and find envelope where booking reference is written so that I can log into the BA website with my other computer and confirm that Andre's flight is, in fact, landing at 7:45 which is, uh RIGHT NOW.
• Grab purse and head toward door
• recall that mobile phone is not in purse but is in clever location in the apartment. Somewhere.
• Have no bloody screaming clue where mobile is, but suspect it has hung itself up with the bras.
• Scramble through purse to locate my business card where my mobile number is printed, grab the land line and dial mobile number.
• Listen to theme from "Hockey Night in Canada" and recall that oh-so-clever me left my mobile by the front door.
• Grab mobile as I race out the door
• Race to the airport and somehow arrive just after 8:10, park and run like mad into the arrivals area while smoothing down freakishly messy hair
• Walk calmly the last 100meters to the arrivals gate. Oh yeah, I'm a little late, but I was probably just finishing my manicure. No biggy.

Andre is not yet in the arrivals area! So I wait.

8:25

• Check the arrivals board and realize that Andre's flight LEAVES London at 7:45 and that his flight actually arrives in Brussels at 11:05.
• Start to say "MOTHER FU*..." but stop before it comes out
• Pay 2Euro50 for parking and drive home.

10:00

• I am a dick.