Earlier tonight I woke up in the early hours - again. I stayed in bed thinking for a while hoping I'd drift off but, alas, nothing happened. Time passed, so eventually I got up and wandered downstairs to use the bathroom.
Now, currently, I'm wearing a watch that doesn't have a back light or luminous hands. Frankly, the watch is a nuisance as I like to track my insomnia (call me Mrs Peculiar) but it's new and it was soooo attractive underneath that glass display counter that I forgot that being able to tell the time in the night is a fetish of mine. Okay... so I know it's an odd fetish but well it's not as bad as it could be; I don't smear my body in mackerel oil and ask anyone to lick it off for example. That would be really peculiar - anyway I didn't get any applicants.
So I went downstairs and looked at the clock - it was nearly 5 am. Hoorah! Sleeping till 5am is a whole night's sleep; it was time to start the day! No more mooching around the house waiting to start crashing around in the kitchen and burning my toast.
Incidentally, I did a spectacular burning session earlier in the week; I managed to boil a pan of pasta completely dry and smoke out the entire downstairs. In fact when Mr T got home, nearly 5 hours later, he could still smell it. I told him I'd forgotten the pan it because I was doing the vacuuming. Which wasn't wholly truthful - as I didn't add on that I was actually vacuuming up the showbiz columns of the Daily Mail.
Yes, yes, I know it was the Daily Mail which is hardly the high brow reading you expect from someone as as intelligent and sophisticated as me but every once in a while I like to go over there and see if they have a column explaining who Kim
Yes, so anyway I scroll down the twenty or so little bye lines and pictures that they have on the Daily Mail and think to myself now what looks interesting enough to read? Usually, I come to the deduction that there's absolutely nothing interesting - although yesterday, to be fair, there was a nice piece by Joan Collins about Elizabeth Taylor. Now that's what I call showbiz news; the death of a screen icon, fondly remembered in words by someone who is also arguably a pretty big name in her own right.
Anyway, back to the insomnia (wherever that was leading to) - so I was celebrating it was nearly 5 am and then I remembered that Mr T had already put the kitchen clock forward....and that if I'd already been awake for a while that probably amounted to... 4 and half hours sleep at best.
So I went back to bed and tried to sleep. Nope. It was not happening. Now, unfortunately, one of the many reasons I can't sleep (especially after I've woken up) is noise. And well... I'm not one to complain too much but when the good Mr T has had a bit of beer things can get a little...noisy. The optimum time for this is Friday and Saturday nights of course but then sometimes he likes to break with tradition and go for Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday nights as well.
It's a tough life being a middle aged executive.
Now anyway Readers... I have a cunning plan which may be my salvation. Okay, so I know you parents out there have heard about that routine you're supposed to implement with crying babies..,Yes, you know the one...the one where you stand next to the cot and then gradually you move away over the course of a fortnight, leaving your baby crying, until they finally get used to being alone.
Yes, that's right ...The My Kid's A Nightmare and I'm a Ruthless Hard Bitch Routine or perhaps, put more simply, The I'm so F***** Desperate I'll Try Anything Routine.
Anyway, that's the routine. I'm sure Sheila Kitzinger has some proper name for it and no doubt she thinks we should all be having orgasms as a result of it - but let me tell you readers I don't think Sheila Kitzinger has ever had a baby. The woman's nuts.
Hmm. And whilst I've touched on the subject of mother and baby manuals, I just want to say that celebrity mother manuals really get up my arse. Ones titled like;
I've Just Had My First Baby and I Want to Tell You All About It For Just £14.99! By A.Moneygrabber
I've Got A Housekeeper, A Personal Trainer and A Dietician And A New Baby and I Still Look Fabulous By E.Gomaniac
One Baby and I Know It All by A. Showoff
I await such a book from Kim Kardishgan in due course. (Still can't spell her name and can't be bothered to check either.)
What the world actually needs is a book from a proper mother. Like me. Obviously.
Anyway, once again, back to the original post, ( I apologize for the inconsistency the lack of sleep sends me a bit doolally at times) so I'm thinking of implementing The I'm So F***** Desperate I'll Try Anything Routine on Mr T. You see Readers, Mrs T is actually a wise woman and knows that marriage is a very delicate matter ( that's why I'm blogging about it) and the subject of I WANT TO SLEEP IN ANOTHER ROOM has to be broached very, very delicately. Right, so here's what I'm thinking;
Day one: I go to bed as normal and say; "Have you grown Mr T? The bed feels a little small."
Day two; I go to bed, curl up at the bottom of my side of the bed and say: "I'm sure you've grown Mr T."
Day three: At 3 am I purposely fall out of bed. I wake Mr T up and say. "You just pushed me out of bed!"
Day four: I sleep in a sleeping bag by the side of the bed and say to Mr T; "I expect it's really cosy with more room in the bed."
Day five: I sleep in my sleeping bag at the bottom of the bed and say "Are you cosy my Sweet Love?"
Day Six; I take my pillows from my side of the bed, and sleep in my sleeping bag by the door. I say "Sweet Dreams My Darling! Sleep well in your cosy bed!"
Day 7: I camp down in my sleeping bag with pillows in the hallway adjacent to our bedroom. I say "I've bought you a new teddy bear My Darling!"
And so on.... by Day 14 I reckon I will have moved to our third floor and will be ensconced in Master Sam's loft room.
What d'you reckon Readers? Will it work?