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Nine hours

March 21, 2018

Mind you, I had set the alarm last night. I have my weekly game of pool with my ninety-five-year-old neighbour Pat on Wednesdays starting at 2pm. Last Wednesday I woke up at 1pm. Still, Even with the alarm, I had a full half hour of incorporating the loud and incredibly annoying noise into my dreams before I finally forced my eyes open. And of course I’m knackered.

Yesterday, after the satisfaction of getting up and immediately sitting down at the computer to produce an entry, I thought it was safe to do my French homework on the tablet, which has a better version of the programme than the one on my computer. (According to Duolingo, I am now 66% fluent in French which is ridiculous beyond words. As further proof of Duolingo’s slim grasp on reality, it offers to add this erroneous piece of information to my LinkedIn profile. Who the hell actually uses LinkedIn these days?)

Anyway, it was a bad mistake. After I’d finished my homework on the tablet, I found myself thinking, “Oh, what the heck. Just one game of spider solitaire before I get on with my day.” This despite another part of my brain screaming “Noooo!!!!!” Unfortunately that part of my brain seems to be where all those elusive menopausal nouns are stored, because I ignored it.

Four hours later (yes, four) I finally broke the spell and then only because I had to get to the village before the stores shut.

I know my doctor says I shouldn’t beat myself up about taking a day off from using my brain, but four hours? Seriously, what the fuck?

Well, as God and you, dear readers, are my witnesses, I will not play a single game of stupid fucking spider solitaire today.

Oh, and PS: Happy vernal equinox.

vernal equinox

From → Black dog diary

  1. krysross permalink

    Any results from the bloodwork yet?

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