Actually I don't. I feel the exact opposite. Is it something in the air? Is it something in the water?
Whatever it is, it's left me bone weary.
LS is progressing through her followup treatments but not capable of having visitors stay for a week, so they decided it was my place instead where they would spend extra times, Why do they always choose the time of year when I can least afford their company with the biggest bills rolling in, when work is at its most nightmarish, and when I am so exhausted from LS's adventures, before they even arrive?
My small place sees us falling over each other, and my nights broken as they wear out the carpet to the littlest room many times during the night. I am not used to this noise. Every light in the place is left on and burn all day and half the night. I feel like I'm facing the spotlight of interrogation. Just as I am falling asleep, all the lights go on and I am lucky to have more than 90 minutes at any one time, sigh. I am now officially a grumpy old woman.
I think I have vented enough now, and a small hot chocolate and a few smarties will go down nicely.
Normal blogging will return when my placid, well slept self returns home and gets her own bed back, can watch her own tv shows of choice in peace and takes over from the nasty tired grumpy complaining fishwife currently occupying the spare bed.
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