I awoke several times this morning, first time being approximately 7:15, after just over an hour’s sleep or something within that time frame anyhow. I was having some odd nightmare about a gunman trying to shoot me through my living-room window. I hid behind the door in the living room that leads out into the hallway of a house I’ve not lived in for some time now. (Lot of protection that would afford, being just hard-board. LOL.) He… (or in these days of pc- ness should I perhaps say ‘gun-person’!) Anyway they/he fired a volley of shots through the huge glass pane. It was very loud, in fact, more like explosions renting the air. From behind my hiding place I screamed “if you don’t stop I’m going to throw this cup of scalding water in your face.” (Cup of scalding water suddenly appears, as if by magic, in my left hand.) This in my dream is a perfectly logical solution of course. I mean what self respecting gun-person wouldn’t quake in their boots at a 5′ 2″ mad, screaming woman, bearing dainty China tea cups of hot water, right??? (It was a pretty cup though… fine bone China covered in sprigs of flowers with gold leaf edging, enough to scare off the most determined of attackers I can only imagine.) I don’t know if it worked or not as I woke myself up calling out at that moment. LOL But I’m still here to tell the tale so must have. So, yeah, I now know how to handle this situation anytime should it ever arise .
I thought I was awake for the morning after that. I text my therapist, like ya do. (Just to let her know our day this week was okay to be Thursday.) Don’t have a clue if the text was coherent or not. Come to that, I’m not even sure I know what I said… think it was in respect of our appointment hopefully? Also, I text several friends, too. If you are one of my friends, by the way, and you have some odd nonsensical text from me, it wasn’t my fault. Please forgive me. The gun-person made me do it. I’m so sorry! 😁 After waking up half of England, I think some of America too come to that, not just with my snoring, but with odd missives, I then, in my infinite wisdom, or sleep confused, who knows, put on Downtown Abbey, the really sad episode where the dog dies, and i promptly fell straight back into a deep sleep. After all, a girl needs her rest. I had rampant gun toting folks to slay…
Mostly, though, I was still tired from being awake the night before, binge-watching Knightfall on Flix of the Net box thingy, with my love, Jesse. We find a new series that appeals to us both, (not that difficult. We have much the same taste.) then that’s it… we just can’t rest till we have watched at least four episodes of our latest addiction. (We have even gained the art of syncing them up perfectly, so I watch mine on my tablet and listen to the sound from Jesse’s TV. (Yeah, your impressed, I know I can tell!) Last week it was Last Kingdom, full of swash-buckling Saxons and hunky Danes. Not a patch on my darling, mind, (Hmmm… he has that beard now, though. Wonder if I could get him to wear the leather garb and do the accent! Phoarrrrr! Stop it, Treez! Behave!) Just no man bun honey, pleaseeeeee!!!!!! (Shudder) Can’t wake up next to a man who needs help getting his hair back into its bun before leaving for the office, or having more scrunchies than I did at one point. (Remember those?) Plus longer hair….. I meander off topic once again. (Sighs. I wander more than those Danes did over England in truth.) Anyway, after Last Kingdom we found Knightfall. It’s not as action packed but okay, even if it is rather odd seeing Carson from Downtown Abbey out of his butler garb and being none other than The Pope!!!!! Kept waiting for him to say “you rang my lord”! Or Mrs Patmore to appear moaning at Daisy for letting the pies burn. Yes, I watch far to much TV, I know.
When I eventually woke up for around the fifth time that morning, it was far more successful. I even managed to get out of bed… my brain functioning on some kind of weird go-slow that even an icy shower couldn’t penetrate my sleep filled head. It worked enough to semi waken me. (The shower, by the way, is icy cold, due to the fact my son doesn’t only share the internet with the butcher’s shop below us (I’m reliably informed this is called piggy-backing. Hang on… who’s the piggy?) but we also share water. Many a time I can be heard doing a very good rendition of the Madame Butterfly opera, as the water changes from lukewarm to icicle forming in no time. I know cold showers are supposed to be good for you but, believe me… when it’s so cold you can’t catch your breath for around an hour after, this is not quite so amusing. (But I decided blue was quite me and maybe I would make a very good Smurf though just not wearing that blooming white dress or shoes. What I am sure of though, after all these months, is that those butchers wait till I get a lather on my hair, then run their taps. (On full! Lol)
After dressing in record time (Not easy while shivering), doing my hair and make up, I decided it being Monday an all that good stuff, and my having survived a night of gunfire and Artic showers, Carson as butler/Pope/person and tears from TV dogs dying , surely coffee was much needed, in fact, essential… crucial even. Not just any coffee, though; double-shot March Hare pumpkin spiced coffee. This stuff goes straight through to my brain, not passing go and collecting $200. (Monopoly term.) Normally I actually start to think with something resembling clarity. (Maybe that’s an exaggeration. Just almost normal anyhow.) But today my head was having none of it. My hard disk had a virus and my mind did that really annoying circling dots thing, (Erm, yes, that’s it… buffering!) and my mind hadn’t stopped bloody buffering all day. I can barely string together two words, let alone whole sentences. When I’ve tried it they come out full of typos and expletives. How I managed to go down there I’m not ever going to be sure, or even if, come to that, I was awake enough to walk there. I can vaguely remember it though. My legs just didn’t want to co-operate with my still buffering brain. I actually did talk to the staff while there at some point. Well, I think they actually just humoured the dribbling-me-staring-into-space wreck of me. (They are so kind there. They fetch me my coffee and sit back, with saddened sympathetic looks on their faces, as I gradually return to the land of the living. (Normally. LOL)
I left to come home and wrap my darling’s Christmas present up to send off to the USA. Who knew it had got so near?! Rushhhhh!!! Having my legs still not taking orders from my mind, I knew this was going to be yet another challenge. This proved to be right, as I staggered from my seat, nearly collapsing back down twice. I’m sure the girls there thought I had had far more than the pumpkin spiced skinny shot thing I had asked for. They watched on with looks of half amusement, half pity, as I staggered out the double Narnia-painted Christmas doors. I tell you, I was that befuddled. I even said goodbye to the snow queen mannequin as I walked by (Aka Delilah by me). She didn’t reply, thank goodness. When I got home I flopped on my bed, then made some attempt at playing a free game I have on my tablet. (Farmville 2 I think it is.) This just wasn’t working out… even that took too much concentration, so I decided to wrap Jesse’s present. Oh boy! Was THAT ever a mistake. The brown paper I was using ended up wrapped around the box six times, but still wasn’t enough. I used enough Scotch tape to keep all Scotland in work for the next century or three. It went round the parcel, round me, in my hair… I ended up stuck to the parcel. I lost the end of the tape so many times that when I had finished I cut the blooming thing up with scissors out of frustration. (That will teach it, stupid sticky tape stuff!) Talking of scissors, I lost those, too, in my useless attempt at gift wrapping. I then used my teeth (Like we all do to break tape, don’t we?) In fact plaaaa plaaaaa. Yup, that’s better… just got that piece out between my front teeth that had remained. I put my by now expertly wrapped present (ahem) into the trolley my love bought me, affectionately known to all as Dilly, and sighed with relief. I couldn’t afford the gift I wanted for the man of my dreams but what I had chosen was with love, plus had filled a good sized box 📦. And there, folks, was a whole other story for yet another day. Don’t ask. No… I mean it! Just don’t!! But it matches the rest of my day and that’s all I’m saying at this point (sighs).
Take care my lovelies. My brain is still, to this point, buffering, so if this makes any sense at all I’ll be amazed. (Let me know if you will.☺) Love you xx.
My American Man In Purple Lace Corsets 