Eleven days?

Have I really had nothing to report for eleven days? Wow. Well, still not a lot to report, or maybe it's just that my brain's not working due to lack of sleep. After getting to bed past midnight (I tend to stay up late writing, then sleep in if I can), I couldn't sleep most of the night because a cold has suddenly decided to descend upon me (do those echinacea and vitamin C supplements mean nothing to such a common, ill-bred virus?) and I don't know about you, but I find it hard to sleep when I can't breathe.

After finally drifting off in what felt like the early hours, Her Ladyship Miss Pepper started up her new trick of whining pitifully and scratching at the bars of her crate. Well, okay, but the thing is my brother got up at 4 to go to the airport (he's off to Doha, don't ask) and let her out then, so for her to start whining at 6.30 as if her last toilet break was twelve hours ago was damn annoying. She's let out at 6.30 by my dad, who sensibly goes back to bed, and then she starts whining again.

Honestly. The reason she's crated overnight is because if left unsupervised, she pees on the floor, out of protest at being left alone. So we're trying to break the habit by crating her whenever she's alone--at eight months, she can handle an overnight (at eight months, she damn well ought to be housetrained!), but she's a stroppy little madam, and she's learned that barking and whining gets her attention (I know. It's not me who's paying her the attention. It's also not me who ignores all advice given, but we won't get into that again).

So, basically, I'm tired and I still can't damn well breathe. Mum expressed amazement that the Wonder Pills that allow her to sleep soundly through every cold left me with a nose that felt like someone had stuffed a firework up it. Yeah, you needed that image, didn't you?

So I'm taking a sickie, going to a friend's house and intend to spend the rest of the day watching really daft films and eating rubbish. TTYL!