I have no mouth, and I must scream

The last few days have featured the Return of the Random Post-Glandular Waves of Exhaustion, which means I fell into bed like a dead thing last night with the happy intention of sleeping until I could sleep no more. My personal techno-jinx, it seems, had other ideas: the bloody car alarm, always prone to unpredictable tantrums, started going off at intervals in the small hours of the morning. Finally, at about 5am, in the rain, a dressing-gown, cold feet and a fit of unregenerate rage, I stomped out into the garden, popped the bonnet and cut the lead to the alarm loudspeaker with the kitchen scissors. This seems to have shocked it into silence for a while, although it started going again, in a muffled, possibly repentant fashion, at about 7. I am consequently (surprise!) exhausted and headachy. Damned sinuses.

Ooh! pursuant to yesterday's rant, it seems Russell Davies is pegged to leave Who at the end of Season 4. My source (6th item down) implies he may be replaced by Steven Moffat. *swoons*

Last Night I Dreamed: the house was destroyed and I ended up sleeping in my bed, fully made with blankets etc, under a giant tree in a nearby park. Fortunately its foliage was very thick, as it was pouring with rain. I also participated in some kind of betrayal of a resistance movement, setting up a meeting of key resistance figures (played by giant dolls) which was actually a trap; then I went renegade and was pursued through the house and garden by the oppressors. Lots of climbing. As I woke up someone was telling me about an alien race of giant insectoid/crablike creatures who chain-smoked continually.