The Bins, the bins!

This morning my head feels disconnected from my body- Like some alien weight plonked on my shoulders by some one hurrying for an appointment with the gods. I went to bed full of good intentions for sleep; a quick read of Richard Bandler,and Miss Marple , some discussion of maths with my daughter and a pledge about washing up and hamster care by my teenage son. The three dogs went out for final night time toilet in the yard and Lenny seemed to accept that he would sleep as he had last night on his barbie pink sleeping bag in the hall. So far, so good. But then the night became permeated by gothic restyling dreams of the past, and mysterious thumpings and bangings about the house which may be explained away by my xbox addicted son or just the structural groanings of a 150 old house. I kept saying to myself. I have three large dogs. Large dogs. Very large and most vigilant dogs…sleep…

Each dog then in turn, but not at the same time, demanded very nicely but urgently to go out. Lenny in fact, crept up the stairslike a canine Romeo,crying.  Betsy came and nudged me just when Gothic dream number two was deeply under way. harry just jumped off my bed and barked.

My final fraction of sleep was broken  by the 8am sound of Tuesday’s heavy clinking of bin lorry and I rushed downstairs calling to a bemused yet hopeful Lenny:

‘The bins, the bins!’ as I had  forgotten to put them out.

So much depends in this daily life upon an empty bin, or two ,  or  three.

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