Slow news day
The today will be like a competition in running with barriers. The barriers will be small, but there will be a lot of them.
And a very good morning to you, too.
Seasons should change gently, gracefully. Naked winter should flush pink like a girl rising from a bath, slipping into crisp white cotton springtime. This year winter seems to have lurched into spring like a man caught bonking his neighbour’s wife, hopping around frantically tugging up his trousers with one shoe on and crashing into a chest of drawers. One day it’s all Hallmark frost, the next it’s t-shirts and sandals. Very confusing, and the worst of it (for me, and it’s all about me) is that changes in atmospheric pressure stop me sleeping. I woke up at 3 o’clock this morning.
The problem with insomnia is that one never knows when to give in and get up for the morning. I considered it briefly at 4, but still held out hope of sleep. By 5 the lying-still-and-hoping technique was palling, but I couldn’t quite muster the resolve to move. By 5.30, half an hour before the alarm was due to go off, I was drifting in and out of uneasy sleep.
The upshot, of course, is that I’ve had four hours sleep and a series of unsettled and unpleasant dreams. I mean, damn. The upshot of the upshot is that until I shake the rancid scraps of dream from my mind I don’t have a lot to talk about.
Apparently I’m not the only one reaching for content today, though: you’re telling me they only just noticed that these mountains – which, one assumes, have been around for millions of years - look like breasts? (link safe for work).
Yep. It’s a slow news day.
And a very good morning to you, too.
Seasons should change gently, gracefully. Naked winter should flush pink like a girl rising from a bath, slipping into crisp white cotton springtime. This year winter seems to have lurched into spring like a man caught bonking his neighbour’s wife, hopping around frantically tugging up his trousers with one shoe on and crashing into a chest of drawers. One day it’s all Hallmark frost, the next it’s t-shirts and sandals. Very confusing, and the worst of it (for me, and it’s all about me) is that changes in atmospheric pressure stop me sleeping. I woke up at 3 o’clock this morning.
The problem with insomnia is that one never knows when to give in and get up for the morning. I considered it briefly at 4, but still held out hope of sleep. By 5 the lying-still-and-hoping technique was palling, but I couldn’t quite muster the resolve to move. By 5.30, half an hour before the alarm was due to go off, I was drifting in and out of uneasy sleep.
The upshot, of course, is that I’ve had four hours sleep and a series of unsettled and unpleasant dreams. I mean, damn. The upshot of the upshot is that until I shake the rancid scraps of dream from my mind I don’t have a lot to talk about.
Apparently I’m not the only one reaching for content today, though: you’re telling me they only just noticed that these mountains – which, one assumes, have been around for millions of years - look like breasts? (link safe for work).
Yep. It’s a slow news day.
posted by tanya at 10:05 am
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