At 1am yesterday evening – just as we were switching the lights off around the house, brushing our teeth, and getting ready for bed, our youngest daughter came down the stairs at some speed, carrying her baby daughter.
“We need to go to A&E – she’s not breathing properly, and 111 (on-call paramedics) said to take her”.
They all piled into the car, and my other half took them to hospital while I paced the living room at home, watched their progress on Google Maps, and drank several cups of coffee.
They returned at 4:30am. I got into bed at 5am, and back up for work at 8am. After emptying the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen up I realised I didn’t need to be up until 9am, so went back to bed for an extra half an hour.
To say I’ve been tired today is an understatement and a half. You know that curious overheating thing your body does when you’ve not had enough sleep? That.
It’s now just past 9pm, and I’m in bed. Writing this to remember the “day that happened” in years to come. Perhaps I’ll wheel this story out when our little charge is getting married – if I’m still about then.
In other news, workmen arrive tomorrow to begin ripping our downstairs bathroom out – meaning we’re reduced to one bathroom for everybody. With a little luck we’ll only be without the bathroom for a week – and then will have a wonderful new bathroom to luxuriate in. It’s only taken us 25 years to replace it.
I’m half-thinking about joining the gym in town and using their showers for the week. I’ve been thinking about getting back into running anyway – and it’s as good an excuse as any to get back into doing something. Of course I’ll have no way of washing my gym clothes for a week, but then I could always wash them in the sink I suppose – I did it on holiday a couple of years ago.
Anyway.
I should sleep.
Recursive Words 
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