Sleepy Sunday

I last had a good night's sleep on Wednesday night. I have no idea what's wrong with me lately! Yes, I slept poorly on Thursday night, worse on Friday night, and yesterday I didn't fall asleep at all, despite meaning to doze before the fire with the rabbit nibbling my toes. I got to sleep about 1am, then woke up at 3.40 or 4.30 am, then dozed fitfully until 6.30 or so, whereat I lay in bed until my alarm rousted me out at 7.05. Stumbling window-wards, I was surprised to see light above the curtains, as it's a bit early for sun-up in these parts, pardner. Drawing the curtains I saw more snow, and the rest of the family clearing it away.

Ack. On with yesterday's clothes it was. And a coat, hat, scarf and thick gloves and then to the drive where I began brushing, and swiftly removed the last three. There's only so much one can wear when it's a warm, er, freezing point of water, as it was. I defrosted the car as we cleared the drive, then took Dad over to his church, returned, collected Mum and my brother, and went to our church. Then home again, and collected Dad shortly thereafter. Home again to some hot toast, then a shower and some fresh clothes at last! I then embarked on the odyssey of trying to navigate Hotmail. Since Mum gifted me her 900 model, I have been able to use Hotmail's emails, and send stuff - mirabile dictu! Unfortunately, those clods at MSN HQ have decided to "upgrade" the system again. Just like when those dirt-chewing nincompoops and wallies at Facebook decide to upgrade their system, what this translates to is loss of functionality.

So now I can't send emails. Well, I haven't exhausted every possibility. I cannot type text, nor can I attach anything, but it's possible that I can send emails via Hotmail with really long subject headings, and contain my whole message therein. If I were to try that with friends, I'd get a friendly clout round the lughole. Were I to try to apply for jobs like that, I'd get cease-and-desist letters in short order, I imagine. So I have had to co-opt a friend in South Korea to send things for me, messaging him from my Gmail account. Blessed be those bods at Google: they don't make "upgrades" that ruin the whole damned service they purport to offer.

Right, yes, so it snowed again and I ended up as chauffeur. I didn't go to Wales because I would have had to do a lot of driving on a little sleep. So I stayed home and did a bit of driving (a lot less, admittedly) on even less (on average) sleep. I am torn between wishing for a good night's sleep tonight - as I have a 9.10 meeting tomorrow morning at the Job Centre - and wishing for no more snow for a few days - so I can go to Brummagem on Tuesday and bestow presents on people. If I had three wishes, those would be two of them! The third would be some sort of teleportation device to save me from having to drive long distances.

I wonder if Star Trek has "Don't drink and transport" adverts with a drunken engineer beaming people into the floor, where they die screaming. Britain used to have a similarly ridiculous advert wherein some blokes sat down at a table, and the majority persuaded their designated driver to have another pint. The party of fellas then noticed a pretty girl at the bar, and remarked that she was giving him the eye. Then the table crashed into her, killing her, and smearing everyone with blood and glass. I don't know if that had any impact on anyone else, but it just made me laugh.* It made me laugh when I saw it in the cinema, and a girl behind me in the gloom - evidently more struck by the pathos than I - shouted out "You're sick!" I defended myself by remarking that it was ridiculous, and then all quieted down to watch the film. I don't remember which film it was, but I do remember that as I walked out of the screening there was a girl with only one arm ahead of me, who must have come from about where the castigatory voice had done.

Yes, by laughing at a silly advert about drink-driving, I may well have inadvertently offended someone who lost an arm in a car accident. I have form for this, officer. Years and years and years ago, I was in a school corridor, waiting to go into a Chemistry lesson, when a girl walked by. I was puzzled and stared at her, because she was carrying the arm of one of the dummies used in the Art Department to teach nascent artists how to draw people. The Art Department and Chemistry Department were quite separated, and no reason came to mind why she should have been in the one with equipment from the other. She gave me a filthy look, and about twenty seconds after she had disappeared out of view comprehension dawned. It was not an arm from a dummy in the Art Department. It was her prosthetic arm, which had somehow come loose, and which she was carrying until she could have it reattached.

I don't think anything I have ever said or done or even thought has made me feel so squirmingly embarrassed as those two incidents! One should not be able to cause such offence inadvertently unless one is Mr Bean. Perhaps I just have a gift for being a fool. Right now I want to have a gift for falling asleep. Until next time, readers - don't look at people who seem to be carrying art supplies and for pity's sake don't defend yourself when someone invisible upbraids you for laughing at something ridiculous.


* Of course, I don't drink and drive. Nor do I drive above 30mph in a 30mph zone, which can make the speed freaks out there furious.