Fumbling to unlock my phone I stare at the icons far longer than any sane person should. The screen was about to timeout – again – as I finally focussed on the clock; clock? Clock? I have no idea what I was trying to do.
My body groaned as I moved haggardly from the dark bedroom to the shower, then back to the bedroom. Time shifted and I found myself in the kitchen, fully clothed – a good sign at least.
Recently I’ve been getting a bit more sleep than the average enlisted man under Haig during the battle of the Somme, so I should at least be thankful for small mercies. Still, that didn’t stop me pouring boiling water into the open coffee jar I had spooned a mound of granules from thirty seconds earlier.
Shit, bugger and fuck. Well, it’s only a few quid of wasted coffee. It could have been worse; I could have poured scolding hot water down my leg – again.
I drained the jar of steaming brown sludge into the sink before filling my actual mug with water as first intended.
Startled by a piercing melody emanating from my pocket I gave a jolt, causing scolding hot water to slosh perilously close to my leg as I fumbled to silence the alarm on my phone.
Clock. Alarm clock. Why didn’t I shut that off the moment I woke up?
For the first time in a fortnight I’d managed to creep out of bed, shower and navigate the stairs without waking neither my wife nor the baby.
Now, a piercing scream fills the house, amplified by the baby monitor. Pointless in a house this size; the sound waves from its speaker travel straight back to the little bugger’s ears, most likely scaring the crap out of him. No wonder he’s crying louder by the second.
Teething? Feeding? A filled nappy? It matters not, as I know the blame lays squarely with me.
Better luck tomorrow, maybe…