Broken nights 2This is a short rant about sleep (or lack of). Last night I was up no less than six times with Little B in the space of seven hours. That’s basically once an hour. Of course no sooner was I finally able to sink into a deep sleep as dawn broke than I was jolted awake by the alarm clock.

While all this is mightily vexing, especially on a day when I really need to concentrate workwise, what bugs me the most is Misery Guts’ ability to roll over, turn his back on the situation and go back to sleep. As Little B starts to wail into the darkness Misery Guts stirs, at best.

I swear he’s more awake than he lets on, and he swears he isn’t. What would happen if I did that? I’ll tell you: Little B would continue to wail. And wail and wail.

Instead, after almost seven months of nights like this, I feel like wailing. And wailing and wailing…