It's in my mind this afternoon to do some kind of illustrated guide to night shift, but it would be something squelchy out of a Clive Barker novel right now, and there's no need to have people losing their lunch over a few bad dreams, is there?
I was also thinking about a guide for considerate night-shift living,because my sleep would benefit if everyone would JUST BE QUIET, but then again, I'm a tad cranky. In some cases, I would like people to stop being so quiet because creeping slowly so as to not wake me up, which already woke me up as your clodhopping boot hit the wooden floorboards, takes a lot longer than just stampeding down the hallway in the rush to ... whatever you were doing. As you were.
Ranting aside (I have more, but you go ahead), there have been no events, unless going to the maritime museum, David Jones Food Hall and faffing about at home count. We were going to the Easter show this year, but small lad started with the "I'm booooored"s and the "it's not fair"s and the refusal to do chores without a fair amount of grousing, so consider the kibosh firmly placed on top of that.
I think I'm more upset about that than he is, because I want to go on rides. Show bags have lost their appeal for me, since I'm unlikely to find a new car, gadget or immense cheque with lots of zeroes after some number greater than one made out to little old me. Obviously getting old has caught up with me and the magic of show bags has worn off. Or perhaps I'm tired of working for a living. I'll get over myself soon. Although I did rather like the extremely cheapy one we got last year full of cowboy and Indian gear, except for the immediately broken bow of the bow and arrow set. I would have liked one of those and a reason to play with it at work, because I think adults are far too adult.
I woke up all cheerful and contented, new bedding, don't know myself, it's marvellous, nice and warm and toasty, until I stood up and had the nice (sic) hangover feeling I have these days after night shift. All slightly swirly head and incipient headache. Partly because I read a book for most of the twelve hours I was at work last night (it was quiet, okay? There was no work, okay?), so my eyeballs are a bit spinny. I keep "forgetting" my glasses.
For some reason the iPad decided the logical auto-fill for forgetting as I typed it was "forget tin". I know Apple likes aluminium, but I think proscriptions about metal use are taking it a bit far.
So now I'm reclining under my nice warm doona typing this and considering the time, really do have to get up if I'm going to make mozzarella-filled hamburgers for dinner. And potato salad. And something. Or something else. Maybe I'll just give up for tonight and we can have crap. Last night I made prosciutto-wrapped chicken meatloaves with Parmesan and bocconcini polenta, so I have expended culinary effort this week, it's not like I'm throwing in the towel.
It's all just too, too risqué really.
