Yesterday ended roughly. I was on the floor with my head in my hands after packing away first wine, then brandy, around the kitchen table with Martin and Nick. We three spent a good three hours shouting our points of view at each other with extreme enthusiasm. Martin wobbled home, I landed on the floor, then, when my head stopped spinning, I threw myself into bed, fully clothed, still made-up with sans clean teeth. My normal nightly routine consists of vigorously washing my face and then plying it with night cream before massaging wads of foot cream into my feet and cuticle cream to my nails. It vexes me when I don’t do these things. They give my life such a semblance of control. I won’t take you through my morning routine, but just imagine something long, involved and very particular.
So fine. I’ve accepted that last night took the course that it did. What I haven’t excepted is that, in the morning, failing to get out of bed for my run, I got out of bed with little time to spare and landed directly upon my glasses which I had strewn onto the floor the night before. Flattened completely! After admonishing myself aloud as a “stupid little bitch”, I managed to save one arm by twisting it back into place but twisted the other arm clean off.
At work, I managed to tape it back on – just imagine. My boss popped in to tell me something, noticed my geek tape and was kind enough not to laugh too much and even said that I looked “retro-chic”. Charming. Louise, on the other hand, said that I looked like … well … I can’t say; it’s too shameful and not particularly politically correct. I’ll take them to the shop tomorrow. I couldn’t bring myself to today, what with working a half-day and rushing home to the BT engineer. You might notice that today is release party day and, even though I’m connected, the blog is still not live. It’s just another thing that I can’t bring myself to do. I feel absolutely wretched, regardless of having an afternoon nap. I’ve been meaning to catch up on my sleep for so long! Then there are the builders upstairs who won’t let me sleep and my own silly vices and the illnesses that they engender. Enough. I will recoil for a spell. I’ll smash the release tomorrow and you’ll all be blown away in the wake of my luminous and spell-binding healthy glow…
Where did that come from? I’m mad from sleeplessness. It’s a quarter past eight. I’m going to bed. I’m sure I have so much more to tell you but it simply can’t matter now. You’re disappointed in me. I can tell.
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