So my word of the week this week makes me very happy:
Finally, I seem to be getting my ability to sleep for England back. Granted, the baby seems to have found a very comfy spot on my bladder, so I do have to get up for regular trips to the ladies, but other than that, I’m sleeping soooo much better this week.
I’ve had a lot on my mind with some issues at work, the very nearly sorted sale of my flat, and the worry that I wrote about last week about whether the baby was OK. So it’s probably no surprise that hours have been spent gazing at the ceiling.
I had a word with myself about the worrying, which I’ll talk about in more detail soon, but it seems to have worked.
Thank goodness. It’s been so frustrating to not be able to sleep, as I’ve been so tired that it’s felt like permanent jetlag. You know, that heavy limb, achy sort of tired that grabs you from the inside and threatens to take you down?
But hurrah, my ability to sleep through anything appears to be back. And long may it stick around.
I’m hoping that after a weekend of embracing my once-again found friend, I’ll be feeling like a new woman by next week.
I think I’d better make the most of it, as come August, it is pretty sure to be stolen from me for quite some time, I fear.