Only vicariousness will save me

Bloggers, I’ve been out-bleaking myself these past few days, especially during the 2 -5pm daily black hole. Or at 5 in the morning on weekdays when I stare at the clock, only 50 minutes left of sleep, quick, sleep, sleep, why am I not sleeping yet? Today I wanted to distract myself by stripping my bedroom wallpaper, rip, rip, bit by bit, in long satisfying ribbons and wet plaster smell. Not gratuitously, you understand, but with higher decorating aims in mind. It’s little projects that keep me breathing, you see. But the only paper stripper thing for sale in the ironmonger shop costs an unjustified £6.99. I had to change my plans: I finished reading Isabel Allende’s ‘El Zorro’ instead, and entertained vivid fantasies of masked caballeros. I got goosebumps, bloggers! Read it, and see if the part when he meets buccaneer Jean Lafitte in the Louisiana bayou doesn’t keep you up at night! Goosebumps. But then again, I am feeling ideologically/romantically starved, or perhaps lacking B12, vitamins and minerals. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference. Now, would you like to know what I had for dinner or what dreams I had last night? I didn’t think so.