Sleep has not been very high on my agenda this week. I am currently house sitting as my remaining family members have sodded off to respective sunnier climes leaving me and the cat (Caviar, see below) to keep things ticking over while they're away. Caviar has already figured out that if she looks at me pathetically enough I'll cave in and give her turkey or smoked salmon from the fridge rather than crack open a foul-smelling tin of cat food. My mother is going to kill me.
The reasons for my fatigue are:
1. I have to get up so bloody early. The family fortress is a long way from work. This morning I awoke at 6.30am in order to get into town for an 8.30am meeting at which, by the way, I was presented with a highly unsatisfactory breakfast. My pain au chocolat was the size of a raisin - and less filling. For that I got up at the crack of dawn?
2. On Monday night, MC took pity on my hellish day at work (a 13 hour shift, oh joy), came to meet me and escorted me home. While no nookie ensued (I am secretly concerned about the durability of the bed in my old room), we talked for hours and then, just as we were drifting off, he started snoring. I have been conned on this front. When we first got together he told me he was snoring temporarily because he had a cold. The cold has long gone but the snoring remains. Hmm.
3. Last night my dear friend Wine Lover came round to keep me company. This obviously involved a lot of wine, a takeaway and a gossip which lasted into the early hours (see point 1).
4. I am currently reading Belle de Jour's diary so what little sleep I do get is filled with deliciously dirty yet annoyingly stimulating dreams.
5. I am utterly surrounded by memories of dad. Every single item in the house has a connection to him. It's a constant and at times overwhelming reminder of what I have lost.