One, Two, Thr- What if Harry thinks my work is terrible?, Four, Five, Si- Must remember my juice in the morning, Seven, Eig- ... wonder where I can find a Jersey Shore duck phone, Nine, Te- QUACK, Eleven, Twelv- ...Marmite, Thirteen Fourte- I don't even like Marmite, Fifteen, Sixte- I hope I sent that letter to the right place, Seventeen, Eig- 4 cm left indent, one and a half spacing, Nineteen, Twe- Oh god, remember Gina G? .......
Nine hundred and thirty eig- Oooh-ah- just a little bit.... One thousand five hundred and seventy thre-Oooh-ah- just a little bit more.....
A tornado of thoughts whirled through my mind last night. And the deeper I buried myself into the safety of my bed sheets, the worse it got. There was no hiding from it. I had to brace the elements and with just three hours sleep, Friday morning greeted me.
Four thirty am in itself is not a pleasant hour. Add a grumpy, starved headachey girl into the mix and I think you get the picture. I had to kung foo fight myself out of bed and into the shower. And then again down the stairs and into the kitchen where I drank a mug of peppermint tea.
I closed my eyes as I sipped my minty brew and imaged a table laiden with croissants, pain-au-chocolat, apricot danishes, cinnamon twists, coffee slices and scones; calorie laden, fatty and carbolicious. Luckily in my house we rarely have such indulgent treats or I would have emptied the presses and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor scoffing myself into a state of delirium.
Can you imagine how torn I felt in work experience then, when I went to the fridge to find it full of blueberry and chocolate muffins, strawberry danishes and cartons of apple and orange juice. My already achey, breaky, broken heart squeezed another tear out. I would have thought it to be as dry as the Sahara at this stage, but it appears that when it comes to food, it's extremely compassionate.
"Tell her to eat, she's not eating," Dave proclaimed.
"Don't mind him, I'm doing a journalistic experiment," I explained for the millionth time.
I slurred my way through the morning, my brain feeling like mush and unable to think. Ironically, working on a breakfast show, I was not much different to Kerry Katona in that infamous GMTV interview. A few people were questioning my sanity too.
I threw myself into bed the minute I got home and only woke up when I was startled out of my deep sleep by the doorbell. I stumbled down the stairs to open the door, dazed and confused and blinded by the brightness of daylight.
"The face on you!" said my little brother, mimicking me.
He looked like a diseased mole rat.
I tried hard to concentrate on my dissertation for the rest of the evening. Progression proved an unattainable dream. I gave up and watched an episode of Glee and contemplated recording my own version of Cat Steven's "Wild World."
"Ooooh baby, baby, it's a wild world
It's hard to get by on this diet, with a smile
Ooooh, baby, baby, it's a wild world,
And I'll always remember feeling deprived"
The scales refused to budge again this morning so I turned to drink. Five pints of juice went down and now I'm hungover and my head hurts.
"Ooooh baby, baby, it's a wild world..."
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"Tell her to eat, she's not eating," Dave proclaimed.
I was doing it for your own good :)
I hope you're well, really...
Dave O'Neill said...
April 18, 2010 at 12:33 AM
Was that bit at the start you trying to count your way to sleep? That's been my method for weeks now and exactly the same thing happens to me every time! Too many thoughts, they won't go away!
Sascha O'Toole said...
April 18, 2010 at 3:01 PM
It's awful isn't it?! I've even tried counting sheep.. Apparently trying to say random words in your head works. As long as they're not associate.
But that's too much of an exercise! I'd be up all night getting even more frustrated!!
The Citrus Crash said...
April 18, 2010 at 3:26 PM