Blood was 6.2 this morning - understandable after an Indian last night.
Today has been flat out working on my magazine till just now. This has meant a truly staggering amount of sitting on my ass doing nothing active whatsoever. I have a feeling I'm actually turning to stone, like a big, brainless troll.
As such, there's absolutely no logical reason why I should feel exhausted and limp-limbed, but if I were to try and bike right now, I think I'd slide off and snore in a puddle of my own sweat, blowing pointless little bubbles into the carpet. Tonight is a night that demands good food and a total chill-out. Any minute now I'm getting into my Edwardian nightgown and slippers, and slipping in the first of a couple of Iron Man blu-rays, I think. Meanwhile d, bless her, having worked all day too, is out in the kitchen making us cheese dogs. Proper Friday Night stuff.
So - Cry Cheesy, and let slip the Dogs of Disappearing, to vaguely misquote Shakespeare. Tonight, I need this more than I need to bike and panic. Ni'night, all...
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