Later, I dragged myself out of sleep. I was in the back of a trailer, and there was a siren going off. I'd forgotten who and where I was, and it was only after I'd reconstructed my bed, my house and my identity that I realised my mobile phone was ringing. I'd missed it, of course, but Damian called again, later. He told me to have some lunch. I prevaricated, and eventually had two swallows of half-and-halfed lucozade and water. And went back to sleep, with only slightly more difficulty than earlier.
I woke up (far less painfully) for the evening, in time for Tenchi (it was the large purple mobile phone monster who hates long distance love affairs episode), and spent a lazy night trying (unsuccessfully) to complete my 2001 collage project. I'm just going to have to shake it to stillness and leave it, I think. It's time to toss 2001 into the bin, where it belongs. Plus, I want the table back.
But this morning I actually woke up feeling awake and actually got to work and got stuff done, lots of stuff done. I mean, I still feel a bit shitty, but not head-slowingly shitty, just a bit of ache and nausea and sniffle. Damian said to me, "Maybe that's what feeling rested is like," but what would he know? When I got back home tonight I discovered he (Damian, who borrowed Mr Wankey my computer last night) had been working with my little Britney Spears sat watching him, with her red rubber catsuit open and her tiny plastic breasts poking out. Hmmmm.