"Venus, have you prepared your outfit for tomorrow's interview?" Katherine called from the kitchen, where she was washing dishes.
Venus lounged on the couch, scrolling through her phone while halfway watching a reality TV show. "Of course, Grandma! Everything's ready. My resume's printed, outfit's picked, and alarm's set. I'm practically there already."
Grandma Katherine appeared in the doorway, drying her hands on a dish towel, her sceptical expression making the wrinkles around her eyes more pronounced. "Hmm. So if I go to your room right now, I'll find your outfit laid out and ready?"
Venus grinned. "Absolutely! Well... mentally laid out. It's all up here." She tapped her temple. "The blue blazer, cream blouse, and pencil skirt. Very professional. Very hire-me-immediately vibes."
"And your shoes? The ones you complained were hiding from you last week?"
"Found them! Under the bed. Right where shoes are supposed to be," Venus said with a straight face before bursting into laughter at her grandmother's eye roll.
"Child, you're hopeless." Grandma Katherine's stern expression softened. "This interview is important. Copeland & Co. isn't just any company. They're prestigious. And they don't tolerate lateness."
Venus stood up and wrapped her arms around her grandmother's shoulders. "I know, I know. Look, I promise I'll be ready. Alarm set for 6 AM, giving me plenty of time to get there by 9. Totally under control."
"Like your laundry was under control last week when you wore your shirt inside out to the grocery store?"
"That was a fashion statement," Venus protested. "Besides, I pulled it off. The cashier thought it was intentional."
Grandma Mae patted her cheek. "Just set a second alarm, please. For my peace of mind."
"Fine, fine. Two alarms. Now can I please finish watching these strangers embarrass themselves on national television?"
Her grandmother shook her head but smiled. "Alright. But remember"—
"—Proper preparation prevents poor performance," Venus finished with a grin. "I know, Grandma. Your favourite saying since I was five."
"And yet here we are," Grandma Katherine muttered as she headed back to the kitchen.
Venus flopped back onto the couch, confident that tomorrow would go smoothly. After all, how hard could it be to wake up on time?
The first alarm blared at 6:00 AM. Venus's hand shot out from under the covers, slapping around her nightstand until she found her phone and hit snooze.
The second alarm rang at 6:15 AM. She mumbled something incoherent and silenced it.
The third alarm—one she'd forgotten she'd set days ago—went off at 6:30 AM. She turned it off completely.
It wasn't until 7:45 AM, when Grandma Katherine knocked on her door, that Venus stirred properly.
"Venus? Are you up? It's quarter to eight."
Venus's eyes shot open. "What?" She grabbed her phone. 7:46 AM. "No, no, no!"
The door opened, and Grandma Katherine stood there, already dressed for the day in her comfortable tracksuit, ready for her morning tai chi. "Please tell me you're getting ready and just didn't hear me."
Venus bolted upright, hair sticking out in all directions. "I set the alarms! They went off! I just... temporarily died between hearing them and actually getting up."
"Mmhmm." Grandma Mae crossed her arms. "Your interview is at 9:00, child."
"I know!" Venus flung off her covers. "It's fine. I can be ready in ten minutes. Fifteen tops."
"The drive is at least thirty minutes. Without traffic."
Venus calculated quickly. "So I have... forty-five minutes to get ready and get there. Totally doable."
Grandma Mae leaned against the doorframe. "Should I start making you that special tea? The one for lost causes?"
"Ha ha." Venus rushed past her to the bathroom. "Very funny. I've got this!"
"Scrambled eggs will be ready in five minutes. Don't make me eat alone!"
Venus stuck her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush already in her mouth. "No time for breakfast!" she called, her words muffled by toothpaste foam.
"There's always time for breakfast," her grandmother replied firmly. "Five minutes."
Venus showered in record time—two minutes flat, most of which was spent arguing with the shampoo bottle that refused to dispense properly.
"Come ON!" she yelled, banging the bottle against her palm. "Why today of all days?"
When it finally released, it squirted way too much shampoo, most of which landed on the shower wall rather than in her hand.
"Perfect. Just perfect," she muttered, using what she could and leaving a soapy smiley face on the tile with the excess.
She wrapped herself in a towel and sprinted back to her bedroom, leaving wet footprints down the hallway.
"Eight minutes!" Grandma Mae called from the kitchen.
"Not helping!" Venus shouted back as she flung open her closet doors.
The blue blazer was nowhere to be seen.
"You have GOT to be kidding me." Venus pushed hangers around frantically. "Where are you, you cowardly piece of—"
She spotted a sleeve peeking out from behind her winter coat. "Aha!" She yanked it free and threw it on the bed, then spun around looking for the cream blouse.
Two minutes later, the blouse was located (in the laundry basket, mostly unwrinkled), but the pencil skirt had vanished into thin air.
"Grandma!" Venus wailed. "Have you seen my black pencil skirt?"
"Did you check the ironing pile?"
Venus slapped her forehead. The ironing pile—the place where clothes went to die a slow, wrinkled death while waiting for her to get around to ironing them, which was approximately never.
Sure enough, the skirt was there, looking like it had been crumpled into a ball and sat on by an elephant.
"No time to iron," she muttered, shaking it out vigorously. "Nothing a little body heat won't fix, right?"
She jumped into the skirt, buttoned the blouse with impressive speed, and shrugged on the blazer while simultaneously trying to brush her hair.
The brush snagged on a particularly stubborn tangle. "Ow! Why is everything conspiring against me today?"