Antipo Gets Her Come-Uppance

I'm quite convinced that most of my readers adore me, and click eagerly on my blog with trembling hands every day, in order to get their literary fix and a few glistening drops of pearly wisdom. However, for those bitter and hate-filled souls (I hereby christen you 'Anti-Antipo Leaguers'), who only come to cast your eyes in appalled fascination at the preposterous scribblings I manage to churn out daily, I'm sure you'll be delighted to know that my smug and boastful declaration of having enjoyed a gloriously, slothful nine hours of child-free sleep yesterday was in fact a sad case of pride coming before a fall.

Alas, yes, my brain seemingly thumbed its nose at me last night. It simply would not turn itself off! It literally buzzed and ticked all night with ambitious projects and completely unrealistic fantasies. Added to this mental torment was an entire symphony of reverberation issuing from French Hubby's respiratory apparatus, and the irritating 'wiss-wiss-wiss' of my every movement against the stiff and overly crisp new sheets he so loves. I prefer the soft, worn and admittedly holey, but SILENT sheets that he has unkindly ditched.

So today I'm back to my usual crotchety and saggy-eyed self! I think my boss should incorporate statutory nap times into every working day...