Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Can't sleep, bed's on fire

We're both a little bewildered this Mon-Tues-Weds (we don't have a word for the early part of the week, do we? Does anyone?). It may be down to essential post-weekend regrouping of neurons and nephrons. It may be down to PMT (mine, obviously) and its ripple effect (I shouted at a colleague today, I think it was merited, it was remarkably effective but I am still hollow with embarrassment), it may just be one of those things.

Whatever. I went to see the bum lady on Monday, seeking clarity via plumbing-assisted decongestion. The sort of bowel equivalent of having a facial. I returned cleansed but a little vulnerable and even more random.

You look like someone who's fallen out of a tree, said M. You're scrabbling round in the leaf litter wondering what's happened.

Thanks, I said. Would you care for a pickled onion?

I'm not sure I can handle any more responsibility at the moment, he replied.




Blogger Ben said...

I've heard good things about colonic irrigation. It's not to be sniffed at.

1:57 pm  

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