Dawning realisations
Mar. 31st, 2011 11:30 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceActually, they were pre-dawn realisations: I was lying in bed worrying, working out and stacking up all the many things I have to worry about and/or do in the next couple of months, and it dawned on me that it was 3.30am and I was wide awake and worrying.
Also, that my head hurt.
It is now eight hours later, and all those things still apply, except that I am not in bed. I would like it best if my head would stop hurting, as I have done nothing to deserve this* and I don't have time to be sick; I have a novel to finish, inter alia. With a formal deadline of today, which is impossible; a personal deadline of tomorrow, which is highly unlikely; a reasonable hope of after-the-weekend.
In other news, it is wild and windy out there, and the boys are madly excited. The swirling air is full of rubbish, and they chase it from window to window with their mad killer eyes ablaze. Me, I have fled to the Lit & Phil and the Silence Room, and even down here is a constant howl of wind. This is, I think, better than the jackhammer.
Onward. He has built his scaffold; now he must jump from it.
*I wasn't even drinking last night: only half a bottle of wine. And then I had soup for dinner**, so there's no way I'm dehydrated.
**Pork potato chilli soup, with cheese-and-leek soda bread. Since you ask. All the comfort foods at once. Makes me feel sad for the rest, tho' it would probably be too hot for them.
Also, that my head hurt.
It is now eight hours later, and all those things still apply, except that I am not in bed. I would like it best if my head would stop hurting, as I have done nothing to deserve this* and I don't have time to be sick; I have a novel to finish, inter alia. With a formal deadline of today, which is impossible; a personal deadline of tomorrow, which is highly unlikely; a reasonable hope of after-the-weekend.
In other news, it is wild and windy out there, and the boys are madly excited. The swirling air is full of rubbish, and they chase it from window to window with their mad killer eyes ablaze. Me, I have fled to the Lit & Phil and the Silence Room, and even down here is a constant howl of wind. This is, I think, better than the jackhammer.
Onward. He has built his scaffold; now he must jump from it.
*I wasn't even drinking last night: only half a bottle of wine. And then I had soup for dinner**, so there's no way I'm dehydrated.
**Pork potato chilli soup, with cheese-and-leek soda bread. Since you ask. All the comfort foods at once. Makes me feel sad for the rest, tho' it would probably be too hot for them.