Moving day at last

After months of wrangling, delays and frustration, the day has come for my son to move into his new flat. We are picking up a van for him in the morning. So off we go to the rental place. There are three young women in a dirty shed all shouting at each other from behind computer screens. Where is that van? Where is the driver? Son is hungover and can't find his driving licence. Goes off to buy a bacon sarnie. Woman behind computer cannot find the paperwork for our van. She had it, she is sure she had it, where is it? Can't find it. Other women look for it, man looks for it. Can't find it. Son comes back with bacon sarnie, woman still hunting for paperwork, son quiety aksed: do you have the van? Oh yes, she said confidently, great sigh of relief. She has to do a check on the licence. Son is eating sarnie and is handed the phone to give his details on drivers office. MMMsss yess date of birth, mmmess swallow, yes,... In the meantime he is texting his friends who promised to help him. I thought only women are supposed to be good at multi tasking ! He is an expert.

Half an hour later, nearly done, I leave him to it - and lie down in a darkened room.