Tiredness as art form, and other observations

It turns out that Monday's perkiness was either a fluke or a random accumulation of a week's worth of energy in one day. For the second day running I can barely put one foot in front of the other. Can't decide whether it's some latent, terminal illness that will see me off by the middle of next month or merely the cumulative effect of seven months of prolonged stress and unprecedented levels of busy-ness, with home and work projects on the go at all times and nary a five minute break to sit and rock quietly backwards and forwards in a dark room somewhere by way of recovery. Oh, and hayfever which assails my mucosal linings the moment I step out of the sodding door. Must cling on for hols in a month's time, in spite of the mountain of things to do between now and then.

Rashly I decided to work T last night, in spite of being an energy free zone and in spite of knowing deep in my bones that it really was a day when horses are best left alone, especially large energetic stallions full of spring grass. It was more of a bean distribution exercise than any real constructive work as such. Slinky Binky came home in the midst of it after a night on the tiles and was yowling at the door to get to the mittens just as I was finishing up, so I untacked T, left him in the picadeiro and went trotting across the yard like the well trained cat staff that I am to let her in. Am sure she goes off just to get the joyous welcome when she comes back. As T was keeping himself occupied by doing caprioles in the middle of the picadeiro and otherwise flinging himself around in an orgy of hair and legs, I figured that a bit more work would be the thing, so had him canter for 10 minutes until he started licking and chewing and showing signs of attention. Thereafter he was ok and only mildly irritating for his post-work ablutions. I love that word: ablutions. There it is again :)

For my part I was in bed by 9.15, snoring by 9.30, woken about 10ish wondering if Sid was home, woken about 11.30 by Sid coming home, then about 3 ish by him coming to bed after falling asleep on the sofa, then at 4am precisely by the raucous snuffling noises emerging from the other side of the bed at such a rate of decibels that I was forced to retreat upstairs. Is it any wonder that I'm tired?