Well, damn

I seem to have lost the art of sleeping in my own bed. Or else the art of sleeping alone. Either way, it's a bit of a blow. I don't believe I managed two uninterrupted hours at any point last night, and I've been wide awake since 04.30: but I need to work today. Work lots.

Le yawn.

Oh.

Apparently I'm depressed. I wonder why?

That might explain the not-sleeping last night, and also the not-working today. Hey-ho. Maybe I'll just drink myself into a stupor. Sounds to me like a rational response. *nods*

To cook well is the best revenge

As I was just saying in a comment, I have spent the last hour in the kitchen. There is a ferocious mutton curry simmering on the stove, beside a pot of boiling rice, beside a boiling ham; sourdough is rising on the counter, to be baked in the morning.

I may not actually want to eat anything, but, y'know. Cooking.

Now I have an open bottle of wine and a terrible urge to drown myself: which, as I am scared of deep water (on account of, y'know, drowning), I shall treat as a metaphor and drown my sorrows only.

I will see you on the other side. ("Of Jordan", I want to say, because I can't resist being clever - but that isn't actually the novel I'm not writing tonight.)

A note, for certain cats of my acquaintance

I do understand entirely how and why the salami got unpacked, and what happened to it after. I am however deeply curious to know how and why my teddy bear got unpacked, and carried halfway across the dining-room before being left ignominiously in the laundry basket. What game exactly were you playing, and who was on whose side?

If anyone would like to come and explain this to me, I'll be in the bath and then having an early night. With Softly.