Sleepyhead...

Let's go back to Thursday, shall we?

I woke up at the normal time (how I can call 5.30 am 'normal' is beyond me, but there you are) and looking in the mirror, I decided that I looked like I'd been carousing all night.  My eyes looked like slits in a pigs derriere, and the tiny bits I could see were the colour of ketchup.  Prising my eyelids open, I grabbed the Max Factor mascara.  This has been known to improve my appearance on many an occasion, but unfortunately this time all it achieved was to make my eyes look like bulls eyes on a dartboard.

I did my best though.  A brisk walk, a sensible breakfast and a bit of car pool karaoke with Eminem helped  a little.  I do have my cool moments with my music,  although the older I get, the more the cool bits are interspersed with the Barrys (Manilow, White and Gibb).  But none of this worked, and going into my office, various co-workers took great pleasure in telling me how knackered I looked, and implied that perhaps I'd been up to no good all night.  Fat chance, my most rebellious deed overnight is leaving my bed socks off.  

Anyway, I managed to make it through to the allotted clocking off time, and went home, only to be faced with two eager faces keen for a walk.  Taking the easy way out, I opened the back door, and promptly fell asleep on the sofa for twenty minutes.  If some poor soul hadn't knocked the door delivering a new lead bag, I'd probably have slept all the way through to Friday.  Guilt got the better of me, and I took the dogs out for a walk, wishing (and not for the first time) that one of them was big enough to saddle up and ride home. 

I returned to the sofa, where I didn't move until 8.15 pm.  The husband, who has the ability to power nap at the drop of a hat, had been asleep for about half an hour at that point.  I'm guessing half an hour - he'd stopped responding to any of my interesting tidbits which I tend to proffer up through every television programme, but this is nothing new.  For all I know, he could have been asleep for hours.

At 8.15, I gave in and went up to bed.  I always read before I sleep, and I think I got as far as making sure my kindle was the right way up before I nodded off.  Believe it or not, this old bird, who rarely manages more than six hours' sleep each night, slept through to 5.15 am.  

Nine hours of uninterrupted sleep -  nothing woke me up.  Whether that be the husband's snoring, my snoring, owls, dogs scratching at the bedroom door or menopausal tsunamis, nothing could spoil my record breaking super snooze.

I was bloody annoying on Friday though.  

Full of beans and satisfied slumber smugness...