So another week limps to an end.
Since Wednesday night, I have managed to squeeze in around three whole hours of sleep. The first night's lack of snoozies was down to the pain I was in after Swing Dance Club, and meant that I was roaming the house looking for various pain relief lotions and potions. Turned out that everything was in son number two's bedroom, the one room which I am afraid to go into after the sun goes down as I am sure it harbours bacteria which could wipe out an entire country if put into the wrong hands.
After my sleepless night, Mrs S commented on my bloodshot eyes as I walked into work that morning. By 11.00 she was offering me matchsticks, and it was with great relief that I headed home at 1.00 where I crashed onto the sofa with a trashy mag and a cup of tea.
And then it was election night. Now I am not a particularly political person but for some reason I always stay up and watch the results as they come in. It started with the election of Barrack Obama some years ago, and since then, I have armed myself with the remote control and a mug of tea and steeled myself for the unfolding dramas. So there I am on Thursday night, banished to the dogs' bedroom. I told someone at work yesterday that I went to this room as there is a television in there. 'Oh. Do they like watching television then?' Of course I then had to explain that this used to be daughter number two's bedroom, but as she has now moved out, the dogs have moved in.
As I waffled on about this, for some reason, I came out with the fact that 'the dogs prefer the radio anyway'. I really don't help myself sometimes.
So back to Thursday night. I don't know why they start the election results programmes so early on in the proceedings. By 11.00 there were a couple of results, and then nothing but waffling by various pundits for the next two hours. I dozed off and then woke up again around 3.00 when I watched the rest of what was unfolding. The strange thing about being awake in the middle of the night is that I always feel hungry. Actually, not just hungry, but ravenous. I can normally quash this with a mug of tea and a digestive, but Thursday night demanded more.
Which explains why at 3.30am I was tucking into two slices of jammy toast with a wedge of cake on the side. I had also considered some salami but decided it might be pushing things a little too far having that in bed. Just my luck, the Gaviscon would have been in son number two's bedroom as well.
At 7.00am as I was getting ready for work, I had to remind myself not to have any more breakfast and it was a very bleary eyed bird who wandered into Binland yesterday. If you remember, yesterday was Master B's last day at work, and as I walked into my office, he thrust a box of chocolate muffins and some truffles under my nose. 'Help yourself to goodies', he said.
Breakfast? What breakfast...