Tag Archives: Sleep deprivation

Here Is The Newzzzzzzzzz

4 Nov
Funny sleeping monkey

Funny sleeping monkey (Photo credit: LaurentBrancaleoni)

Nine teenagers slept at my house on Friday night.  One on one couch; two on another couch (had to be seen to be believed); one in Tory Boy’s room and six (including the owner) in Spud’s room.  Next morning (near-catatonic), I accidentally implied one of Spud’s friends had bad breath (which he didn’t).

Saturday night, we had the real hurricane we were promised last week.  Half of our road’s tarmac came up to reveal pretty cobbles underneath.  The street sign was uprooted.

Last night, Molly decided to join the local fox in a pre-dawn barking contest.

Sleep: I remember it well.

A Frosty Reception

22 Sep

 

First, no summer;

now autumn’s disappeared.

I’m not complaining or anything, but why do we have frost in September when it’s supposed to be autumn?  To be fair, which I don’t feel like doing, we kind of had autumn in summer, so I suppose an early winter was inevitable. 

Nature better get her act together or somebody’s going to get a kicking (there’s a reason I hold on to the Hub, and it’s none of that soppy love note business).

Yes, I’m still in a bad mood; I woke up at five, then watched Beckett pretend not to love Castle.  Of course I’m in a bad mood.

a question

a question (Photo credit: the|G|™)

A sleep-deprived Tilly is not a pretty sight.  Somebody pass me the duvet; I think I hid the funny there.

Go here for more Six Word Saturdays.

 

My Ten Favourite Things About Blogging

14 Mar
This chimpanzee was enjoying a snooze this sun...

Image via Wikipedia

Three hours’ sleep last night.  A bit of a repost for you. 

A bit, because it is part of a greater whole.  Not ‘greater’ as in ‘better’ than this (let’s face it – how could it not be?  One paragraph in and even I’m confused.  What can I tell you?  Three hours’ sleep last night) but ‘greater’ as in, ‘there’s more than this but you’ll have to go back to the original post to find it.’  Which you can’t do ’cause I copied and pasted the bit that I wanted to use and then clicked ‘Add new post’, forgetting to keep open the original post so that I…oh, who cares?

Three hours’ sleep.

Where was I?

Um.  Oh, yes: my ten favourite things about blogging:

  • Meeting all you wonderful readers and your delightful blogs.
  • Learning the art of sucking up.
  • Finding interesting titles.  Today’s being the exception that proves the rule.  I never got that: how can an exception prove a rule?  Surely it disproves a rule?  And what’s with the sudden fashion of announcing ‘proven’ as ‘proven’?  Sorry; you want a side order of clarification with that?  What’s with the sudden fashion of announcing ‘proooven’ as ‘pro-ven’?  Irritates me no end, and not just because I only had three hours’ sleep last night.
  • Sharing searches that find me.
  • Reading comments – you always surprise me.
  • Feeling like Sally Field at the Oscars – you like me; you really like me!  But we’ve been there, so maybe I’ll scratch that one.
  • Reposting.  (Three hours’ sleep last night).
  • That some of you can’t count to ten; and most of you won’t bother.
  • Your indulgence of daft posts like this when I’ve had only three hours’ sleep.

Face It: Two + Too = Feet

23 Sep

Two nights of too little sleep = toenails embedded in my skull.

I look like this (but with hair and…ahem…padding):

I could drink tea all day, to keep me functioning:

But that would leave me a little grumpy:

I’m off to bed now, if I can just find the handle on this wall…

For Viewfromtheside‘s prompt: Feet & Weekly Photo Challenge: Faces

BAd nIight

7 Jul
Sleep On Computer

Image via Wikipedia

I haven’y had mucg sleep.  I had a bea dram and I jept waking myself up but then going off again, strainght back into the dream.

***Howebet,   never let it be sid that The Laug

hing Housewife lets exaustion get in the way of a pist, though yu mau have to excuse me if I fal asleeep while typi…

Let Sleeping Blogs Lie

9 Jun
Happy Prancing Man!
Image by Observe The Banana via Flickr

It wasn’t lying so much as not realising the truth.

I mentioned a while back that I was having trouble sleeping.  You offered some excellent solutions but none of them were of any help.

Don’t take it personally: how could you give me the answer to my problem if I gave you duff information?  The solution for a broken leg is not a three course meal and the solution for my broken sleep was not shutters or eye patches because the cause was not dawn light, as I thought, but anxiety.

Don’t blame yourselves.  Or me: I live in a fantasy world where nothing is my fault so how could it be my fault that I didn’t mention I was anxious about something?  Blame the government (my default position, because I always vote).

I have an issue with a government department and I was waiting for a letter to arrive that would prove me right and them wrong.  It arrived yesterday and guess what?  Eight hours of unbroken sleep last night.

Thank you all the same; I really do appreciate the help you offered, useless as it was.

Sleep deprivation is a strange thing: housework is neglected, tempers are frayed, jokes go untold.  But throw in a baby and you don’t find yourself hurling a child across the room for crying six hours straight; you call the doctor and marvel at your own patience and selfless love for the little monster.  Throw in a teenager and you marvel at your own patience and selfless love for the little scrote.  Throw in a husband and you ask for a divorce.

Some people do that, of course; but not me.  Once again, the Hub came up trumps.  I was tired and grumpy all day, in spite of the letter, which I didn’t know at that point was going to act as last night’s narcotic.  I sighed a lot.  By dinnertime I had sighed so much I was hyperventilating.

The Hub stood in the middle of the room and grabbed at nothing in the air.  When I asked what he was doing, he replied, ‘I’m catching your sighs so they stop bothering you.’

I knew when he said ‘you’ he meant ‘me’ as in ‘him’ rather than ‘you’ as in ‘me’, who is ‘I’, but I thought he was rather sweet.  He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in fifteen years and I’ve responded in many ways, most of which involve yelling or hiding but none of them had me prancing like a girl to show how much I love him.

He’s not bad, as husbands go.  I might hang on to him.  I’ll sleep on it.

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Footnote: Eight hours or not, I still have some catching up to do.  Besides forgetting to schedule this morning’s joke, I made five spelling mistakes in this post.  Unheard of. 

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