Elusive

I have said it before, and it can’t be said enough: Life is crazy.

I had it about three hours ago, went to bed, pulled the duvet over my head, hoping for oblivion. No, not a happy ending to the day.

Instead I found that my feet were icecold, a condition that afflicts many a woman, but never me. I have had people lying next to me, siblings, men, children, all complaining that I am like an oven on full steam. But tonight was ludicrous; and I have learnt if there is one thing you cannot do it’s to go to sleep with cold feet. I don’t know if the Californias or Caribbics measure their duvets in togs; if you do don’t believe for one minute that there is safety in numbers.

It took me two sleepless hours to get my feet up to speed, and just as I was about to drop off, Felix came in to ask me for some fresh pillow covers. I can’t win the battle for snooze any longer.

I now wish I had got the new dvd “No country for old men” , though my handwritten note reads “No country for COLD men”. Have you seen it yet, Vern?

Ten to two in the morning, marvellous; and I can’t find the phone.

U