Irony #1

Today I used some lieu time to take my mum to the doctor's for her blood tests and B12 injection, chase up her walking stick referral, make a hairdresser's appointment for her and keep her company until returning to work after lunch. This meant that for the first time in absolutely ages I could go straight home from work, chill out and spend quality time with my daughter. We went to Tesco's and spent an absolute fortune on food, washed the pots and cooked and ate tea together and chatted and watched TV. Bliss. I have an early doctor's appointment tomorrow to renew my Prozac prescription so when it got to nearly 10pm and I was really tired, I thought I'd be relaxed enough to go to bed and have a good night's sleep for once. You'd think so, wouldn't you. I could not get comfortable, no matter what combination of pillows I tried, my shoulders wanted to be under the covers but my feet wanted to be outside, my brain would not switch off and my legs were performing Riverdance. (According to this article, it may well be something to do with the Prozac.) Then the dog wanted to be in so I plonked her on the bed thinking a solid warm presence would be soothing and conducive to sleep. She jumped off two seconds later and went back to her own bed. So here I am, hoping a mug of hot chocolate and the whirr of the hard drive fan will do the trick.