Day of the Crazy Zombie Mum

Not much sleep again last night.

Our fridge has had some random alarm going off every hour or so … and sometimes every couple of hours, and other times every less-than-hourly … for the last few nights.

It almost feels like waking up to a brand new baby, but at least in the brand new baby scenario, you’ve got to do something useful and worthwhile, like feed it, and not just swear about what the fuck is going on, push a button to stop the noise, hope your fridge isn’t about to die and hope it shuts the fuck up for the reset of the night.

I drag myself up and out into the searing heat of today to do the Saturday morning basketball run, where I discover that my beloved, whom took over the basketball training run during the week, has been chatting to the man who has been our team manager for the last two seasons and has put my name forward as next season’s manager.

Attempted to extract self, but the lack of sleep from the last few nights has played havoc with brain functionality.

I covet going home and reclining on the couch.

Alas, that is not to be, although I do get a moment when we arrive home, to sit, yell at Eldest One to get sorted so we can go and purchase a birthday present for

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