Friday 13th

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It was one of the days Henry dreaded most; a Friday thirteenth, the unluckiest day of the year. He debated if it was even worth getting out of bed. He could call in work sick and just stay here where it was safest. 

No, the boss will know I’m lying, Henry thought, he overhead me talking about today for sure. 

Henry got up and avoided doing anything that might trigger the bad luck. He didn’t look into the mirror, he didn’t walk on any cracks as he headed to work, he didn’t go under any ladders or scaffolding and he prayed no black cats crossed his path.

At work he didn’t speak much and just got on with his accounting spreadsheets. He didn’t take his breaks or stop of lunch, Henry just wanted the day to be over. He ignored his colleagues asking him to come out for drinks or food or dancing. He mumbled he was busy tonight or he wasn’t feeling well.

He left work on time, a rarity for him, and hurried home. Once there, he undressed and got straight into bed even though he was hungry and his favourite quiz show was on TV.

If I can sleep through the rest of the day, everything will be fine, Henry thought.

However, he couldn’t sleep and within an hour had got up and was making something to eat. He had soup and crusty bread whilst watching the end of the news. Seems a few bad things had happened today; but then didn’t they everyday?

As soon as he had finished and tided up, Henry went back to bed and read for a few hours. He felt safer in his bed, nothing could happen here.

He heard it start to rain outside and a cat begin meowing loudly. He tried ignoring the child like crying yowls but the noise was cutting through his concentration.

Henry got up, went to the window and looked out. At the house across the way, he saw an outside lamp on and underneath, on the front door step was a black cat!

Henry clutched his chest and stumbled backwards. Was it okay that he had only glanced the cat? The creature hadn’t crossed his path or touched him or even looked up at him. Perhaps, the cat wasn’t all black?

Henry clung to that thought and got back into bed.

Everything is going to be okay, he started repeating.

He checked the time and saw it was almost ten o’clock. Three hours to go till Friday thirteenth was over.

Henry picked up his book again and tried to get back into it but his mind kept wondering. He got up again and looked out the window but the cat had gone.

‘I don’t know if it was all black or not,’ Henry said aloud, ‘but if it lives in that opposite house then I must have seen that cat before and I know there’s no black ones around here! Unless…they got it recently….’

Trying to get rid of his thoughts, Henry got back into bed again and pulled the duvet over his head. He tried to convince himself nothing was going to happen and somehow he fell asleep.

In the morning, he awoke to his alarm going off. Henry struggled out of a deep sleep and turned it off. Sleepy, he looked at the date and saw that he had made it through the unluckiest day of the year.

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Myself Day

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The phone rang. April opened her eyes and rolled over in bed, ‘not today please,’ she muttered. Tugging a pillow over her head, she settled back down.

There was a knocking at the front door. April moaned, ‘not now,’ and turned over.

Something was tugging at the duvet, then there was a weight on her legs. April, disgruntled and looking dishevelled, peered to see what it was.

‘Hello, cat,’ she said and scooped the tabby up.

Snuggling her pet, April went back to sleep again, lulled by the cat’s purring.

A tapping on a window downstairs came next. April shifted around and decided the warm, heaviness of her bedding wasn’t worth the effort to move. Ignoring the sound, she drifted off again.

Another ring of the phone. The shrill tone echoing through the quiet house like a warning alarm. April unwrapped the cat from around her head and pulled down the duvet.

‘Go away!’ she shouted at the phone. She picked it up and slammed it back down.

April lay back and looked at the ceiling. Her cat crawled on to her chest and curled up there.

‘Today is a myself day and I don’t want to talk to anyone,’ April spoke.

 

Comfort Food

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It was crazy, Petra knew but the flu was gripping her hard and the only thing she want was a nice bowl of stew….In the middle of August!

Though, today looked more like autumn, Petra thought as she looked out of the steaming up kitchen window. Gale force winds and heavy rain were blowing the full leave trees and bushes about as if a God was constantly sneezing on them.

Stirring the pot, she peered in, decided that was fine and put the lid on. Petra set the timer for a few hours, not a thing she’d normally do but she couldn’t smell so she couldn’t relay on that to tell her when it was done.

Back in bed, she snuggled down and tried to get an afternoon nap in. She dozed and thought of the tasty, warm, comforting stew bubbling in the pot. Soon, she told her stomach, we can eat and everything will feel better again. Lovely, stew…. 

Dear Diary

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Dear Diary,

The insomnia is back. I’m not sure why and nothing seems to be working to help me fall a sleep. I lay awake, sometimes staring up at the ceiling, other times eyes shut just begging to drift off.

I get up and clean things. I write whatever comes into my head, even though some of it doesn’t make any sense. I read books, until I can’t concentrate. I stargaze if the night sky allows. I try hot baths, pills, hot drinks, mind games, TV shows, I change bedding and sleeping positions. Whatever the advice is I’m doing it.

I’m beyond exhaustion, high on caffeine, just to keep going and surviving.

People think I’m ill and I shrug it off but maybe I am? Have I an illness that is causing the insomnia? I avoid looking it up on the internet – too many misdiagnoses.

It looks like I might have found a help tonight. I’m listening to the sounds of water dripping in a cave. It’s making me feel relaxed and my mind for a change isn’t full of things. I feel sort of floaty….

 

(Note; currently the only thing that is helping me get to sleep at night is listening to this YouTube video;

Morning Snuggles

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She felt the dead weight on her feet and wondered what was going on. Sleepily, she turned the duvet and looked down. The rescue dog was sprawled at the end of the bed, snoring away.

She smiled and settled back down, knowing she had done the best thing.

Dear Diary

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Dear diary,

Summer is here but the weather doesn’t feel like it! It’s rainy and windy, with dark clouds and a sense of autumn more then anything.

I wanted to go for walk but have decided against. It’s a cup of tea and a lengthy novel to fill my afternoon out with.

The living room feels cold so I feel chilled which doesn’t help the aches and pains in my body. A bath later will ease things and pass more time till I can go to bed again. Sleeping, once I get there! does help.

I have been doing the exercises the nurse recommended too and spending more time standing up and less sitting which is fine on a good day but not on a bad. Swimming also has helped. In the water, I can forget anything and act like I did in the days before becoming ill. I’m going to do more swimming soon.

Warm, dry weather also helps and I’m hoping summer does settle in soon and I can spend more time feeling well enough to do things.

Till then as always, it’s trying to stay as comfortable as possible and distracting myself with as much as I can.

Monday

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It was Monday morning again. She lay in bed, having slept badly due to all the troubling thoughts. The alarm went and she turned it off. No work again today, she was too tried to face the world. She wondered if there was anything worth living for now.

Tried

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The doctor said it was just tiredness and I needed some extra rest. Landing on top of my bed, I buried my head in a pillow and just thought about everything. It was an easy thing to say; get some more sleep but it was hard to actually do.

All my thoughts kept me awake and nothing seemed to dull their voices. It was like being at a loud party and not being able to hear anything. I just wanted it all to be quiet and to be left in peace, if only it was that easy.

 

Bed Days #TwitteringTales

Sundays was made for spending in bed undisturbed watching classic TV shows, reading huge books and relaxing away.

 

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2019/02/26/twittering-tales-125-26-february-2019/ with thanks).

Winter Bugs

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Bed was the only place for my body whilst my mind had vacated to somewhere else. Sneezing and coughing, my throat felt like I had eaten a cacti and my chest wheezing with pain. Sleep came slowly and wasn’t restful at all. The bugs were here to stay.