Mission Unslimable
I can't sleep at the moment.
Reasons for this are many and varied, but they can all be neatly summarised by the sentence: too much going on in my head.
Work is a pig; we are furiously planning the next Foundation service (which we love doing, but do get a wee bit carried away in terms of time and energy involved); Mother-in-law is in hospital; it's Annie's birthday in 2 weeks; we're having some decorating / tidying jobs done on our house, getting ready to go on the market in the New Year; I'm involved in planning for the St Matts Carol Service, and Richard for Advent services; and Christmas approacheth rapidly. Meanwhile I'm trying to come off one of the immunosuppressant tablets for Lupus, so am likely to feel a bit achy and tired for the next few weeks. Bah.
At this time of year everything in the body clock screams, 'Hibernate!', yet somehow we all start pedalling faster. Barking. I feel a bit better since last night, when I sat down and made a Grand List of everything that needed doing, at least on the home front. I may not have actually done any of it, but there will be much rejoicing as things start getting ticked off. We Control Freaks know how to have a good time.
Anyway...I can't sleep. I spend a not inconsiderable time getting to sleep in the first place, then I typically wake up, WIDE awake, at around 5am. Sometimes I lie there, reminding myself to close my eyes occasionally. Sometimes I get up and do something useful. When I go downstairs at that hour there is ALWAYS at least one slug at the far end of our kitchen, often with a tell-tale slime trail across the cat food. The size of these slugs can be quite surprising, considering their method of infiltration...
(Cue 'Mission Impossible' theme music...)
Up the outside wall, squeeze through an air brick, across the dusty wasteland underneath a stair, squeeze through a tiny crack in the floorboards and...Voila!
Now I come to think of it, the one I flung back into the garden this morning had a look of Tom Cruise about him. Stocky. Petulant. Given to odd religious beliefs. Unnaturally striaght teeth.
I think I need more sleep.
Reasons for this are many and varied, but they can all be neatly summarised by the sentence: too much going on in my head.
Work is a pig; we are furiously planning the next Foundation service (which we love doing, but do get a wee bit carried away in terms of time and energy involved); Mother-in-law is in hospital; it's Annie's birthday in 2 weeks; we're having some decorating / tidying jobs done on our house, getting ready to go on the market in the New Year; I'm involved in planning for the St Matts Carol Service, and Richard for Advent services; and Christmas approacheth rapidly. Meanwhile I'm trying to come off one of the immunosuppressant tablets for Lupus, so am likely to feel a bit achy and tired for the next few weeks. Bah.
At this time of year everything in the body clock screams, 'Hibernate!', yet somehow we all start pedalling faster. Barking. I feel a bit better since last night, when I sat down and made a Grand List of everything that needed doing, at least on the home front. I may not have actually done any of it, but there will be much rejoicing as things start getting ticked off. We Control Freaks know how to have a good time.
Anyway...I can't sleep. I spend a not inconsiderable time getting to sleep in the first place, then I typically wake up, WIDE awake, at around 5am. Sometimes I lie there, reminding myself to close my eyes occasionally. Sometimes I get up and do something useful. When I go downstairs at that hour there is ALWAYS at least one slug at the far end of our kitchen, often with a tell-tale slime trail across the cat food. The size of these slugs can be quite surprising, considering their method of infiltration...
(Cue 'Mission Impossible' theme music...)
Up the outside wall, squeeze through an air brick, across the dusty wasteland underneath a stair, squeeze through a tiny crack in the floorboards and...Voila!
Now I come to think of it, the one I flung back into the garden this morning had a look of Tom Cruise about him. Stocky. Petulant. Given to odd religious beliefs. Unnaturally striaght teeth.
I think I need more sleep.
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