Sunday, 2 October 2011

DoZy

I just remembered I didn't feed the children's goldfish.  They feed them just before they themselves go to get ready for bed, about 7 pm, which isn't a time when I'm likely to be thinking about goldfish, being ready to start thinking about feeding me.  I went through, gave them their pinch of dried food, switched the light from the day bulb to the night bulb (they spoil those goldfish) and picked my way back, in the dark, down their garden path and across to my porch door.

It's been a quiet day.  The Sage was out for most of it.  To be fair, he did suggest I might go with him, but he was first planning to check out a bric-a-brac sale, which I would frankly not enjoy - we've got enough muck'n'tat around this house without adding to it or looking at other people's cast-outs, and then call on friends who, while very charming are a bit ... one topic, shall we say.  It's a topic that the Sage is more interested in than I am and a couple of hours of disguising boredom and wishing I could be home reading the Sunday papers - I could see where this would lead, so I cut out the wishing and stayed at home, in the sunshine for a while, indoors in the cool for a while longer.

I'd have loved to go to sleep, and drank a hopeful glass of wine at lunchtime, but it didn't make me drowsy.  I'm just plain tired, not having slept enough for the last couple of weeks.  I'm just drifting off at night when the Sage thwacks himself cheerily into bed and starts chatting.  Delightful as this is, it wakes me up again and I can only catnap for the next few hours, having missed the chance to get into a deep sleep.

Still, a few meetings to come this week.  If I can't have a little doze through one or two of them it'll be a poor do.

But on to another matter.  I said sympathetically to a friend last week, "oh, I am sorry."  "No, it's not your fault," she replied.  Well no, I wasn't trying to take the blame for her car needing two new tyres and some work on the brakes, I was sorry for her rather than apologetic.  But...surely she realised that?  Does one have to say "I'm so sorry to hear that," or similar, for it not to be heard as an apology?  Hmm.




19 comments:

georgie said...

What bugs me is when I tell people about something and they say "don't worry". Well, I wasn't worried, just chatting!

Dave said...

Not remembering goldfish? They would probably have forgotten you, were the situations reversed.

Jane and Lance Hattatt said...

Hello Z:
We are sorry that, from time to time, it falls to your lot to feed the fish. As we are sorry that your friend misunderstood your expression of sympathy, and even more sorry that you are losing out on sleep.

But, perhaps, what we should say is we are sorry to read that...!!

Z said...

Or come up with helpful suggestions that you've already tried, Georgie.

Fortunately, I don't rely on them to prepare my meals, Dave.

Very good, Lance and Jane! And it was dull, wasn't it? I shouldn't blog when I should be asleep!

Rog said...

"the Sage thwacks himself cheerily into bed".

What a lovely picture you paint Z!

Z said...

I probably could have put that better, Rog.

Nota Bene said...

Sorry. I found that all very funny. And I've never been here before. Sorry.

Mike and Ann said...

I'm sorry to say I use that word too much meself. How very annoying - is what we probably should say, when we wish to convey sympathy.

But surely people must know that we're attempting to offer sympathy, we're not saying - 'it's my fault'.

Z said...

Not at all, NB, you are most welcome. I cannot be witty or otherwise entertaining, so I might as well be laughable.

I was surprised, Mike. I now wonder how many more ills that I've been blamed for, without realising it.

Pat said...

Yes sad but true: husbands are congenitally unable to creep into bed: they must BOUNCE!

Blue Witch said...

The goldfish are forced to stay awake at night? Poor them! Is that natural?

Sorry to say, of course.

Macy said...

Now I'm speculating on your one topic friends... and what the one topic is.
That the sage is more keen on....

Z said...

Throwing the bedclothes back as they do so, Pat - and we're so careful to slip in silently.

Oi, BW.
And it's a tiny blue light, which I believe replicates the effect of moonlight through water. Some of the tank is entirely dark. Al and Dilly are entirely devoted to animal welfare and I have every confidence in their kindness to animals. Tonight, I sat with the fish for several minutes, for company, before switching the lights.

Well, I can't say, it wouldn't be fair. I might be encouraged to elaborate on the subject in a few minutes, though.

Blue Witch said...

A blue light, is, of course, OK ;)

heybartender said...

What Rog said.

Z said...

Oh soddit, darling, you too? Okay, you have a point. But I must say, being nearly or entirely asleep and then the bedclothes being thrown back and a cheerful, chatty man bouncing (thanks, Pat, better word) into bed wakes a woman up. And she doesn't go to sleep again.

Time for my strong black coffee, I think. It's nearly 10 pm.

Z said...

Well, BW, I'm relieved to hear it. x

mig said...

Personally I like thwack. Though sometimes there's a bit of added bounce as well. And the throwing aside of bedclothes.
Sometimes I wonder if men understand that sleep is supposed to be restful.

luckyzmom said...

Happens to me too,"thwack". Grrrrr...Cheery conversation.....Grrrr........