Been listening to Iris deMent's "My Life" lately. She has this amazing voice, soaring and dipping, mournful and joyous. It's music that cuts through bariers of cool and irony to give something very human.
It's been a few days of living deep in my shell, trying to ride out this flu. Feeling achey and irritable and tired and spacy at times. And I've been at work the past two days when I shouldn't have been, but there's been a lot I needed to get done. So I've dragged myself off in the morning and dragged myself home at night. Waking in the morning to cold and wet, and leaving at night to cold and wet. Cold on the kitchen floor first thing before I take my shower, all quiet in the house while Debbie and Matthew are still asleep and I feed the cats and turn the computer on and eat my cereal and read some e-mail.
I used to like the mornings best. I was a morning person. Now, slow sleep deprivation over three years has robbed the morning of its promise. It's a stranger to me now, a cold unwelcome reminder that sleep has been lost yet again to me.
Dishes have piled up in the sink. Clothes strewn around the house. Debbie is feeling nauseous now. So told me in no uncertain terms tonight that she was not going to deal with canned cat food again! As an aside, don't you hate it how whenever you empty food out of the can into the cat's bowl, somehow some of the slimy meat and jelly by-product touches your skin and it's all slimy and smelly and yuck, and you vow to be more careful next time, but you never are.
I'm realising I swear a lot! At work too. It's not really loud swearing, and it's only meant for me, but it's audible. It's when I get frustrated. Something crashes, won't open, won't work, is lost, dies on me, is beyond my skills or comprehension or desire to learn ... Out come the swear words - which I'll spare you here! I think I swear quite well and quite effectively actually, but it's a worry how unconsciously the words come out. Maybe it's a result of working at home for a year?
I don't have anything else to say tonight. Sleep is beckoning.
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Journals and blogs that I read regularly
Raising Hell
Feral Living
Hippycritical
Udder
My Life in 12 Point Font
Journal of a Writing Man
Some Jingle Jangle Morning
The Last Girl Scout
Potatoe.com
Journallife.com
Window to my Soul
Chickybabe
Sorabji.com
Yesterday's Makeup
Fifteen Milliliters
Fly Away
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Photo of tunnel copyright Bernd Klumpp, available from istockphoto.com