I keep meaning to post here, but frankly I’m just not getting enough sleep to manage more than short stupid things which betray my lack of capacity. So, hello: here is a short stupid thing (i.e. myself).

Remind me that these nights of five, six, seven wakings will pass, would you, internets? And that being awake for two hours with one of those sessions is not de rigeur forever?

Oh oh oh – I should be writing approximately eight hundred words on the notion of radical homemaking; instead, I find myself tucked up on the sofa with my old friend Procrastination (who has been with us right over Chrimbly, not having anywhere else to go; oddly, he tells me that some people are childish enough to wish him elsewhere at such times, and that not a few of them were quite rude in their manner of telling him so!), tappetty-tap-tapping here, there, and everywhere except that very document which should be commanding my attention. Gosh. Quite like ol’ times, eh? Ah, the happy days of my thesis – what fun that was, and how we laughed.

Ahhh.

January. January. Time of resolution (or lack thereof). Of dark days, and short evening. Of lengthening days, and, if you are us, so far, cars which break down. Lots of times. Twice, with a small baby with bronchiolitis (a horrible closey-uppy breathing-tubesy thing which affects small babies rather nastily) on motorways. And then again, just for the fun of it.

So, tell me nice things which cheer me up. Tell me things which aren’t about asthma, or bronchiolitis, or middle-of-the-night wake-up calls. Go on. Do.