*bumps gently into walls*
Tuesday, 10 April 2007 07:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freckles_and_doubtCurse that Friendly Psychologist's Internet Romance. He does this thing to pork spare ribs where they're rubbed, smoked, baked, basted and braaied, and the meat falls off the bone in incredibly flavourful shards, and then I eat way too much of them, in the company of slightly too much gin, giggling and DIY crème brulée, and can't sleep properly. I must have lain awake for about four hours last night, while random thoughts chased through my head and the cat chased a cockroach round and round the room, dear little psycho that she is. (She left the corpse in my slipper this morning, although it was only playing dead and when I tipped it out, scuttled off to dig in under an unidentified piece of furniture, presumably with machine-gun nests and a concrete bunker. Joy).
Of course, the insomnia could also be knock-on effect from having been dosed to the nines on painkillers the previous night, which leads my system to expect soothing sleep-enablers and get all petulant when they don't materialise. (And that, my chickabiddies, is why I don't do drugs. My nastily dependent little system can get its habit-forming kicks from Earl Grey, Lindt 70% and occasional codeine on a strict ration, and damned well like it. They're all quite expensive enough).
Anyway, a bit out of it today on account of sleep-deprivation, tending to drift around vaguely and bump into things. I've also spent all afternoon sitting at home waiting for the delivery of new cupboards for my bedroom, which of course failed to materialise, hiss spit, but nonetheless lent the whole afternoon a curiously provisional status. This is particularly annoying as I really needed to sally forth this afternoon in search of one of those nifty IPod belt clips, as currently the beastly thing tends to leap madly out of my tracksuit pocket when I'm rowing and slither frantically across the carpet, bound for parts unknown, and followed by a faint, tinny trail of Belle & Sebastian.
B5 has also failed to arrive today, putting us at T-2 and far from sanguine. On the upside, the Telkom gremlins have actually reconnected the phone, so it's once more safe to essay the landline. Just don't expect actual conversation.
Of course, the insomnia could also be knock-on effect from having been dosed to the nines on painkillers the previous night, which leads my system to expect soothing sleep-enablers and get all petulant when they don't materialise. (And that, my chickabiddies, is why I don't do drugs. My nastily dependent little system can get its habit-forming kicks from Earl Grey, Lindt 70% and occasional codeine on a strict ration, and damned well like it. They're all quite expensive enough).
Anyway, a bit out of it today on account of sleep-deprivation, tending to drift around vaguely and bump into things. I've also spent all afternoon sitting at home waiting for the delivery of new cupboards for my bedroom, which of course failed to materialise, hiss spit, but nonetheless lent the whole afternoon a curiously provisional status. This is particularly annoying as I really needed to sally forth this afternoon in search of one of those nifty IPod belt clips, as currently the beastly thing tends to leap madly out of my tracksuit pocket when I'm rowing and slither frantically across the carpet, bound for parts unknown, and followed by a faint, tinny trail of Belle & Sebastian.
B5 has also failed to arrive today, putting us at T-2 and far from sanguine. On the upside, the Telkom gremlins have actually reconnected the phone, so it's once more safe to essay the landline. Just don't expect actual conversation.
 | Bunny Threat Level: no actual change, on account of vagueness, curriculum advice and thing. However, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small} wolverine_nun handed in her PhD thesis today. Huzzahs! and I consider myself Challenged, TM. *glares threateningly at bunny* |
