Yesterday I unexpectedly had to drive the girls to school (husband usually does it).
I put on some new, I think stylish, track pants, a long-sleeve tee. I washed and moisturised my face. I thought I combed my hair, and jumped into the car.
On the way there we realised Frieda hadn't completed her reading assignment for the day - she was beside herself and not satisfied with my writing a note to her teacher, wanted me to come and explain the situation in person.
I unloaded Stella at Frieda's school and we went in search of Mrs van der Merwe, to discover all the teachers were in assembly.
So I hung out at the back for a while, chatting to other mums and catching up a bit, until bored of waiting I went to the achingly sweet school secretary, explained the situation, left the partially completed reading book and note with her.
In her office I bumped into some other parents, had a couple of other quick chats ...
Then on to Stella's school where, as soon as I walked in, her teacher and another mum said: 'Oh, still in your pyjamas are you?'
What? Do I look like I'm in my pyjamas??
'Kind of,' says the teacher, 'or maybe it's just the wild hair.'