I am sooo tired. The last time I felt this exhausted, I was in the army doing basic training. Stupid name, ‘basic training’. All they train you to do is eat absolutely anything vaguely organic and sleep standing up while holding an assault rifle. Actually, that is pretty basic, when you come down to it. Where was I? Oh yes, I am exeeding tired (note to the Grammar Nazis: I chose those words deliberately to convey a sense of how I speak sometimes, so don’t bother trying to correct my language. I will simply ignore you).
So why am I tired? Well, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh sorry, drifted off there a bit and I now have an impression of the keyboard decorating my forehead. Anyway, to return to my story, the sprog has absolutely no concept of time and wakes up at odd times during the night and starts making a racket. My wife is incapable of getting her to settle in the early hours of the morning, so this bitter cup passed to me quite some time ago. Our nocturnal bonding sessions usually involve slurred variations on the theme of, “You c’n stay ‘wake ‘f you wanna. I d’n’t care. Jus’ be f’k’n’ quiet.” The child is probably going to end up talking like a toothless vagrant when she is older, but that’s just too bad. I can manage this for five or six days at a stretch, but when the weekend comes, I need a few extra hours to catch up and feel human again.
This weekend it was not to be. This weekend, I was kept awake from about 4 a.m. each morning by various combinations of the sprog caterwauling; the neighbourhood cats attempting to harmonise with the youngster; the neighbourhood car alarms attempting to harmonise with the cats; and the old standby – my spouse snoring like an item of earth-moving equipment.
To quote my dear ol’ Dad, “Look on the bright side, son. All things come to an end and you can’t live forever.”