Monday, July 10th, 2006

caddyman: (Psychedelic)
I think that I am allergic to Sunday nights. No matter what I do, it is rare that I sleep properly and Monday mornings are consequently more of a chore than they need to be because I am tired before I even start.

Last night I was hunkered down for sleep by about 1am (sounds late, but I usually turn in around an hour later), but back at the PC faffing around by 1.40 having lain there unable to doze off for 40 minutes. Thereafter I recall looking at the clock at around three and then, after a really rather odd dream, which for once, I can partially remember, I woke up again just a few minutes after 4am with a bit of a headache. So I got up, wandered around in the pre-sunrise glimmer, checked my email and had a smoke. By 4.25 I had managed to scare the bejasus out of [livejournal.com profile] ellefurtle by switching on the bedside lamp to find the paracetamol as it had fallen from the bedside table into the deep gloom below as yet un-illuminated by the dawn. Despite the accusing look I got (followed by further snores), the tablets and a glass of squash did the trick and the headache disappeared, so I was able to snatch another three hours or so sleep before the alarm.

But I really did not want to get up at that point.

The annoying thing, see, is that I deliberately made sure that I was out of bed before 10.30 yesterday morning, that being about the maximum lie in I can safely have on a Sunday commensurate with any sleep at all on Sunday night. I may as well have lolled around until midday for all the good it did.

I wonder if this is all to do with the sudden influx of vitamins into my system. Thursday and Friday both saw me eating salads for my main meal. Saturday was a salad sandwich with a bit of chicken and yesterday was a baked potato with coleslaw and grated cheese. Mind you, I did rather overdo it with the grated cheese, [livejournal.com profile] ellefurtle had a reasonable helping thereof, but I had An unreasonably large helping (sometimes you just have to tell yourself to stop grating, already!). It was very tasty, though.

Now I come to think of it, that amount of cheese may well have contributed to my disturbed sleep, though we finished eating by about 9.30, so it would be a bit of a stretch...

Annoyingly, in the dream stakes I find myself able to remember the beginning and end of the dream, but not the middle bit. I am lucky, I guess, to remember even that much; my (sleeping) nights are usually just dreamless voids which disappear in the blink of an eye. At the beginning, I was in a dark bar or club with some (unidentified) friends when I recognised (of all people) Angel (David Boreanaz) looking somewhat perturbed. This led to a request for help, a rather film-noire episode in a dilapidated hotel in which unidentified friends and I escaped by the skin of our teeth (from what I don’t know). One of us having mislaid his jacket and me having lost my mobile phone. At some point the friends thinned out in n umber until it was suddenly [livejournal.com profile] romney, [livejournal.com profile] colonel_maxim and me trying to get a night bus home from an unidentified part of central London. We missed the bus and ended up taking a [livejournal.com profile] colonel_maxim short cut, which led to me waking up with a headache just about the time the three of us were strung out along a dark country road arguing about whether to go back or to continue. I think my brain rebelled after one non-sequitur too many.

Waking up before finding out what it’s all about. That could be a parable of my life.
caddyman: (Psychedelic)
I think that I am allergic to Sunday nights. No matter what I do, it is rare that I sleep properly and Monday mornings are consequently more of a chore than they need to be because I am tired before I even start.

Last night I was hunkered down for sleep by about 1am (sounds late, but I usually turn in around an hour later), but back at the PC faffing around by 1.40 having lain there unable to doze off for 40 minutes. Thereafter I recall looking at the clock at around three and then, after a really rather odd dream, which for once, I can partially remember, I woke up again just a few minutes after 4am with a bit of a headache. So I got up, wandered around in the pre-sunrise glimmer, checked my email and had a smoke. By 4.25 I had managed to scare the bejasus out of [livejournal.com profile] ellefurtle by switching on the bedside lamp to find the paracetamol as it had fallen from the bedside table into the deep gloom below as yet un-illuminated by the dawn. Despite the accusing look I got (followed by further snores), the tablets and a glass of squash did the trick and the headache disappeared, so I was able to snatch another three hours or so sleep before the alarm.

But I really did not want to get up at that point.

The annoying thing, see, is that I deliberately made sure that I was out of bed before 10.30 yesterday morning, that being about the maximum lie in I can safely have on a Sunday commensurate with any sleep at all on Sunday night. I may as well have lolled around until midday for all the good it did.

I wonder if this is all to do with the sudden influx of vitamins into my system. Thursday and Friday both saw me eating salads for my main meal. Saturday was a salad sandwich with a bit of chicken and yesterday was a baked potato with coleslaw and grated cheese. Mind you, I did rather overdo it with the grated cheese, [livejournal.com profile] ellefurtle had a reasonable helping thereof, but I had An unreasonably large helping (sometimes you just have to tell yourself to stop grating, already!). It was very tasty, though.

Now I come to think of it, that amount of cheese may well have contributed to my disturbed sleep, though we finished eating by about 9.30, so it would be a bit of a stretch...

Annoyingly, in the dream stakes I find myself able to remember the beginning and end of the dream, but not the middle bit. I am lucky, I guess, to remember even that much; my (sleeping) nights are usually just dreamless voids which disappear in the blink of an eye. At the beginning, I was in a dark bar or club with some (unidentified) friends when I recognised (of all people) Angel (David Boreanaz) looking somewhat perturbed. This led to a request for help, a rather film-noire episode in a dilapidated hotel in which unidentified friends and I escaped by the skin of our teeth (from what I don’t know). One of us having mislaid his jacket and me having lost my mobile phone. At some point the friends thinned out in n umber until it was suddenly [livejournal.com profile] romney, [livejournal.com profile] colonel_maxim and me trying to get a night bus home from an unidentified part of central London. We missed the bus and ended up taking a [livejournal.com profile] colonel_maxim short cut, which led to me waking up with a headache just about the time the three of us were strung out along a dark country road arguing about whether to go back or to continue. I think my brain rebelled after one non-sequitur too many.

Waking up before finding out what it’s all about. That could be a parable of my life.

Profile

caddyman: (Default)
caddyman

April 2017

S M T W T F S
      1
234567 8
9 101112131415
16171819202122
23242526272829
30      

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags