Monday, 12 December 2016

BEAR WITH SORE HEAD

I'm having a little tea and toast to finish this awful day.

I suppose when the dentist told me to take it easy after my operation this morning, she probably would have included running a stressful choir rehearsal in the list of things I shouldn't be doing. On top of that I'm still taking the mirtazapine.

"Why don't you just take it earlier?" says... well, pretty much everyone, when I outline the symptoms experienced by taking this little sleeping pill at the end of the day. It's not insensible - after all, I can't carry on waking up at 9am every day. However, the flip side of taking it earlier in the evening is that I seem to slide headlong into Bear with Sore Head much earlier too.

I just burnt the toast. I had to scrape it into the sink. Oh and my gums hurt. Oh and I'm living in a filthy hovel that I never have time to clean, oh and I've forgotten to put the bins out, again, oh and the Pontipines have arranged their fleet of cars so I can never park outside my house again. I should be asleep really. In fact, I could do with hibernating, right the way up to Christmas.

If you don't hear from me, that might be where I am. Bear with Sore Head Asleep in Hovel.

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