We're taking a bit of a breather while the world rearranges its underpants. Meanwhile, the other blog is here.

Sunday, October 03, 2010

On a clear night with that I can see the end of the bed

I suppose that the Sunday morning dream where I find myself fighting my way through a packed convention centre trying to find out who's pinched my computer screen after finding that
  • The server room's been bricked up by senior librarians;
  • My desk's been replaced by a coffee table and three sofabeds complete with pre-installed hippies with guitars; and
  • I can't shout because my throat is filled with my own vomit
means that I'll be taking a few anxiety issues to work with me Monday morning.


Unknown said...

Here at the wendy house we'll be chanting and meditating on your behalf with joss sticks and those little symbols on strings that go 'ting' when you knock them together. It's like remote help with anxierty problems

Pat said...

We've gone back to Horlicks. I know the Sunday night dread (dimly remember)
Watch something nice on telly. Hot bath with any pamper stuff you have. A drink of your choice and any naughty little treat you happen to have in the house and with wendy's and my loving thoughts all should be well. Give it a go.

Happy Frog and I said...

My thoughts are with you to, completely understand. I shall drink a green tea before bed and think peaceful and happy thoughts for you.

Kevin Musgrove said...

Thank you dear ladies.

Madame DeFarge said...

I reckon it's too much excitement from Saturday night TV. All that Anne Widdecombe dancing is enough for anyone.

Kevin Musgrove said...

I've been scared to watch in case I get a crush on Paul Daniels.

Macy said...

Waking up on SUNDAY with bad dreams is definitely a bad sign.
Sending a big virtual hug, and an extra bourbon for your packed lunch. Biscuits usually help :)

Kevin Musgrove said...

Macy: thank you my dear. They are the currency of the office economy.