Sleep was not forthcoming last night. I felt tense and hot, my neck always at the incorrect angle. Light on, light off, light on, light off. Read book. Loo. Wee. Or just lie there with my eyes open and occasionally swear.
When I saw dawn I almost gave up entirely. I would often miss whole nights a few decades ago, I’d weather the fuzzy start the next day with coffee and have a long morning, do whatever it is I had to do, and then fade out. I need to take care of myself nowadays a bit more, so I had one last attempt and it worked. I woke at half eight with a splitting headache. About 3 hours sleep? Got some breakfast and took all my pills alongside some migraine relief and felt like the walking dead most of the morning. Brian nuked some bacon in the air fryer.
Lou was in town at lunch, buying fabrics in Goldhawk Road and Walthamstow. I spent a shot of time with her, but was really not feeling very much like a participant in the world today. I pulled out and drove home and cooked myself a hearty lunch. Max came over briefly in the evening and we had a short evening stroll. It’s mild again, the weather, for which I am grateful. Still about a week until my birthday and the weather has got to hold, that’s the rules. I’m getting even older. Days like this can’t become the norm, I need a blooming job please universe.
Looking for work, pitching for things, strategising about a few ideas here and there, keeping myself mostly capable and available for the nebulous *thing* that is definitely just around the corner but don’t look directly at it or it’ll vanish.
Misty is sprawled on me and I’m writing this on my back on my bed. She occasionally gently digs one sharp paw directly into the rose of my nipple, perfectly cutting through the T-Shirt and dragging. It’s an affection thing. She’s in her contact mode and everyone else is asleep. I suspect she will place herself at the foot of the bed and help me get to sleep tonight. She’s a sensitive soul. Didn’t show up last night, but I think I was working through some stuff as I lay there. Sometimes it comes up at night time.
Now she’s trying to burrow into my stomach. I’m glad I’m sharing space with these two affectionate idiots – the cats not Brian and Maddy. I can see how people who live on their own end up surrounded by the things. If I had a country estate there’d be a whole pantry dedicated to the buggers. “If I had a country estate.” A man can dream. And dream I shall, shortly. Gonna put this down, stroke Misty back a bit, and have a chamomile.
AlBarclay 