Day 36: Dust Slut

Woke at 3.30am - brain buzzing and fully alert.  Don't know why.  Thought I might as well make the most of it, so I sneaked downstairs, lit a candle, swathed myself in a blanket and meditated in the solitary darkness.  Like one of those hardcore Vipassana dudes (except they'd probably have been in pants with no blanket).  Then I finished my book.  A productive night.  Quite like being up and active when most people aren't (got to be careful with that - my grandmother was completely nocturnal, like a lemur, so I may have a genetic propensity).  Finally fell asleep, contorted on the tiny sofa, as dawn broke.  Weird, vivid dreams - probably due to the perilous angle of my neck.

Morning fuzziness soon dispelled by the walk to get a paper - bleached sky, crisp frost on the grass, and cold air making my teeth and eyeballs ache.  Then to the gym.  Where I actually heard a personal trainer say the words 'You snooze; you lose'.  Seriously.  He meant it seriously.  It pleased me immensely.

Stupid enough to go into M&S - the food bit.  Never good on a Saturday, but in December it's ridiculous.  People feverishly buying marinaded king prawns and individual yule logs.  Like they're necessities.  There's a store gimp whose job involves rounding up stray baskets, trolleys, discarded items - a Mobius strip of a task.  He's unbelievably stressed, because his natural pace is fast, and his path is constantly blocked by bimblers and bad trolley management (I feel his pain).  He's red in the face, and rigid with suppressed rage.  He needs an internal Ipod.  I've had far less supermarket rage since I started playing reggae on mine. 

Serious cleaning this afternoon.  Rounded up all the dust mice under the bed and behind the furniture.  (There was a sizeable colony - it's been AT LEAST a year...).  Which is brave and foolish as I am very  allergic to dust.  (On the positive side, I have a robust medical excuse to live like a dust slut - brilliant).  Tomorrow my eyes will be like slit kiwi fruit.  It will not be a good look.  But worth it for the deeply satisfying vacuuming experience.  The ANNUAL vacuuming experience (don't go getting the wrong impression).

Henrique Hilario.  He's a footballer.  Whatever.  It's his name I'm interested in.