I think New Years for some brings a sense of joy and relief, a feeling that another year has passed successfully, or perhaps just by its whisker, but either way, another year has passed.
Me? I laid awake with raging insomnia on Monday night, playing and replaying my 2009 over and over and over again in my schizophrenic little head. I started to hyperventilate, my shortness of breath accentuated by Panu’s insanely slow and steady breaths. How can he sleep so still? Honestly, sometimes in the middle of the night, I poke him til he grunts because otherwise I wouldn’t know if he was actually alive.
Up until yesterday, I had no idea what a mammoth task it is to find a venue that served dinner on Christmas eve. I mean, that doesn’t sound hard, right? But wow, it appears the entire population of London hunkers down and shuts all semblance of trading after lunch on the 24th and hibernates (perhaps in preparation for the feasting planned for the 25th), re-opening again for a gargantuan Christmas lunch.
And all I want to do is have dinner out on Christmas eve.
I think it’s my punishment really, for not believing in Santa. And before I go on, if you do believe in Santa, please change the channel now because don’t say I didn’t warn you, coming up is the hugest spoiler alert in the history of big fat men.
One night two weeks ago, as I lay in bed trying my very hardest not to claw my eyeballs out of their sockets, I was reminded of a terrifying night I spent alone all those years ago (wow, it’s almost been a decade).
It was my first experience of a migraine, where the agony in my head is magnified by the stray light that somehow penetrates the pitch blackness that I’m lying in ~ in a dark room, under the blanket with my eyes closed and somehow, somehow, this light fires off microscopic missiles at my eyeballs, sending me into a writhing ball of pain, willing death to come much faster than it apparently wants to.
Last time, the migraine preceeded the crowning and extraction of my wisdom tooth, but we will not go into detail about the amount of pain that involves. This is a G-rated blog afterall.
I’m gonna come clean up front and admit that this is a completely blagged post. Blagged items, if you don’t know, are things that we bloggers are sent from PR folk to eat and cook and test, and provide our supposedly much sought after opinion. My opinion in particular has the influence of a peanut, so I don’t know why they send me stuff, but hey, this week I got ugg boots (!!!) so I am not complaining.
In light of the fact that dusting off my old ugg boots indicate the onset of winter, new ugg boots indicate that it’s winter now! NOW! Wear them NOW! and like seriously, the power of the mind, I have convinced myself (and everyone else) it’s winter. So much so that Abel & Cole also think it’s winter, and have sent me a delicious chicken, mushroom and leek pie to warm my little belly.
I really do sound like a flaky-wimp-loser-bimbo and ever so slightly confused, don’t you think?
what’s talkin?