I'm back to work tomorrow. The holidays have barely been long enough for me to sufficiently get my energy levels back and for some reason tonight is the night the animals choose to play up!
It's late. The cats are mounting increasing attempts to break down bedroom doors, not just mine but I can hear them digging away at the wood paneling, accompanied by the occassional mournful wail. The dog managed to filch a couple of chicken bones from the bin, despite a heavy carton of cat food tins placed on top to stop him accomplishing this task. He is now laying beside me belching and retching. In despair I got up and put him in the garden to be sick. Instead he chased phantom intruders around in the dark and ran back inside muddy but still full of chicken bones.
So what now? I have a glass of port to help calm me down, but it's not working. Another big belch from the dog has me reaching for the bottle as I simultaneously grab a wad of kitchen roll. Nothing! How long do I sit here like this seething and worrying?
I love my animals, of course I do, they add so much colour, magic and love to my life, but tonight I could do with a little less of the drama. It's like living in a Bette Davis movie where I'm the anti heroin throwing myself onto the bed begging for sleep but instead just getting more of the same! Where's that bottle of port?