Better Offer

Up and, unwashed, drove to the Shell on Belair Road this morning to get a paper for the university offers.
There I am 'Myninjacockle 463912' (flick, flick, flick) - Business Studies...what? Oh, wrong number. Education Middle/Primary Graduate (I love that part) Entry. You little beauty.

I was content to bask in the reflected glory beaming from the small grey newsprint for a while, say the next two months, but ever practical Knickers had to go and ask some pretty fundamental questions:

• How are you going to get to Mawson Lakes?
• Will you be able to keep up your hours at work?
• If not, how are we going to pay the mortgage?

So now I'm experiencing a mild panic attack. I have to admit to myself that my familiar 'she'll be right' approach has let me down in the past. Usually when the approach wasn't backed up with any sort of plan but hey, best laid plans, silver lining, Monty you terrible...

I don't know what a teacher does. What if you need to go to the toilet and lunch is an hour away? I'm so confused.