(no subject)

So after weeks, nay, months of waking at 6am to be at work by seven, suddenly the pattern is broken: yesterday I slept till 7.30, this morning it was 8.30. Which would be all well and good, if it weren't for the fact that I'd spent half the night awake, both nights. Which, after weeks nay months of being so tired that I really did sleep in those hours set aside for same, is an unwelcome return to previous behaviours. Maybe I should just work more.

Still, there are compensations. I was so restless last night that Himself came in to see me. We played pounce through the duvet (and yes, this is a little like making love through a bedsheet, but I need the protection or I just bleed too much), and then, mirabile dictu, he snuggled up to my near hind leg and went to sleep. And we were both still there this morning.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that we had thunderstorms and phenomenal rain yesterday, and Himself was out in it. For about 0.5 seconds. He flew into the kitchen like a startled shuttlecock: very hard, and kind of fluffed-up, and braking to a saunter in mid-air. I cracked up.

That would be me, then

<td align="center"> Chaz --
[noun]:

A person who has the ability to be invisible

'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com</td>

Quiz

This is the fact: that I feel crap today, thick-headed and woozy and cold. Is this:

(a) just the weather (it's been raining literally all day, and is just vile out there, and even the relentless splatter of it against the windows is getting to me);

(b) just broken nights and bad sleeping;

(c) some lurgy kind of bug; or

(d) the traditional post-book breakdown?

Not that it matters, because wherever in the alphabet it comes from, the treatment is the same. I am going to lie on the sofa and drink hot toddies (made with ridiculously indulgent single malts and organic honey, along with the lemon juice and Angostura bitters, because there just ain't any cheap stuff in the house, hon, and I'm not going shopping in this weather, in this state) and read The Jungle Book. Which is, actually, work: I am smitten by a Bright New Idea and actually need to revisit this essential text. At least, I sort of do, I need to have it fresh in my mind. What's taken me a little by surprise is just how well I know it already; I do remember its being a favourite when I was young, but it must have been one of those favourites that I went back to time and time again, because I know this almost by heart already, and I didn't remember that.