I do not sleep very well.
It takes me ages to wind
down and then shortly after I finally manage to slip into the land of nod, my
wee babe wakes ready to start her day.
But it’s not really her fault.
I can go to bed at 11pm and still be awake at 1 or
even 2am.
The problem is my mind.
I think I might be crazy.
I do my usual routine – brush teeth, put on face cream
that doesn’t work, climb into bed, read a bit of the Good Weekend, lights
out…and then goes my mind.
And it goes and goes and goes and goes.
Goes in directions such as this…
We are going
to the park tomorrow. What if I think Gregory has Q and he thinks I have Q and
neither of us have Q and someone steals her?
Or reading something about that poor kid in Bali, the
one being held on drug charges, right before we flew to the US and this…
What if I
get mistakenly accused of being a drug smuggler and they separate me from G and
Q and they won’t even let me breastfeed her so she starves because she bottle
refuses and has never tried formula anyway.
And his flatmate (who is a nurse so I assume she knows
what she’s talking about) tends to agree.
I am a hot beverage whore. I like having something hot to drink. I alternate between coffee and water all day long until the sun is over the yardarm and then I alternate between wine and water, before heading back to hot beverages for a final tea before bed.
And so as my chronic fatigue is reaching well, chronic proportions, I have decided to address my addiction and have limited myself to one coffee a day. I’ve had today’s –
at 5.30 this morning. A delicious large skim latte. I savoured every sip.
The rest of the day will be filled with decaf tea.
Woo hoo. Party at my house.
I’m no less tired, Q has no less energy and the
laundry has not managed to perform a self-clean.
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