I wish I hadn't taken that sleeping tablet last night. I just felt wired at bedtime, and they normally don't have any side effects but... oh... oh... oh...
I didn't get up at 7.30 to go the gym. I just lay there, listening to Libby Purves at 9 gossiping with a hard-drinking breast-grabbing Diplomat's wife.
On the bike ride in, I sailed into the Westway underpass and my head went "MMM... warm dark space... must close eyes..."
Things haven't really got better. The urge to sob, shout, or just fall asleep is contesting with a sudden sprout of really important meetings where i have to be NICE to people.
Not helped by the NB ringing up giggling, "I've had two hours sleep since Sunday and I've not touched cocaine! But I am drinking champagne right now."
I'd narrow my eyes, but then they'd shut and that would be the end...
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