And so it begins – the crazyness which comes with exhaustion.

Not only does this new age of almost-drunken near-unconsciousness herald some magnificent things – like forgetting I’ve already made myself a cup of tea, then making another – but the darker side of my sleep deprived brain has also begun to surface. Yes, that’s right, I can understand the cat as if she were speaking English.

“What’s that you say, Artemis? You want more pseudo-chicken biscuits? Well I wouldn’t, but ok. And I know that little groan means you’re disappointed I caught you trying to get into the living room and sent you back to your grot-bed. I don’t care, either. Be still, beast!”

I keep telling myself I’m over half-way through these consecutive nightmare-long shifts, and that I only have two short days left after today until I’m on holiday. Obviously though, being as addled as I am right now, the good news hasn’t yet sunk in and I find myself staring at my shift blocks on screen, begging for all those little green boxes which sing my inevitable doom to disappear.

I’m spread too thinly right now – as Bilbo says in the LOTR films, “like too little butter over too much bread.” What I don’t give at work, I give at home and I’m finding myself becoming a Frankie-shaped balloon, full of very little but stretched to bursting point nevertheless. I think if I make it through today though, I might just manage to pull myself back – to reclaim a little of my creativity and energy. By hook or by crook.  Regardless of whether I do or not, I definitely feel that I deserve to be reincarnated as a pampered house-cat in my next life – Artemis is anything but sleep deprived. She told me so herself…

NB: Please don’t interpret the above as my being miserable. I’m not.

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