Sunday, 11 December 2011

Poxy clocks

After this weekend’s exertions, sleep came easily on Sunday as well as last night. I struggled to watch BB5, brushing my teeth during the advert breaks just so it would be one less thing to get in the way of precious sleep, head resting wearily on the top of the sofa, eyes closing, fighting the constant battle of, “Can’t I really be arsed to watch the rest?” verses “Can I be bothered to move?”.

I relented, switched off the TV, turned off the lights and headed into the bedroom where my head touched the pillow and I was away into dream world.

03:04 AM

Never a sight you want to see. The orange numerals burning themselves into your brain. Numerous slurred swear words followed then the thoughts started. I hate it when that happens, you want to get back to sleep but you can’t. Your brain won’t bloody well shut up long enough for you to fall asleep.

“I can’t believe she is being such a bitch, what did I do??”

“Do I need a piss? Maybe I should have a piss just in case. I don’t want to get up. But I do need a piss, but I don’t want to get up, but I need a piss”

“What should I cook for Hannah tonight?”

“Shuddddup and get to sleep”

Apparently a good solution to this is to keep a pen and paper by your bed to write all your thoughts down on, but just like I couldn't be bothered to get up, I couldn't be bothered to find a pen. I'm also not sure how useful it would be to write, "Do I need a piss?" fifty times.

Argh, hate it. Now I’m a tired (and therefore unpleasant to be around) Tilesey, but I am lunching with Miss Austin which is always entertaining and gossip filled…. And I finally have some decent gossip to share! Ha!

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