Early to rise and late to bed, means a man gets scrambled eggs

La Serpiente, bless her heart, waited until we’d finished watching Coco last night, then blundered into our room just before twelve, holding her hand over her face to hide from the shine of the light. I took her back to her bed and hugged her for a few minutes; she whimpered half-heartedly then went back to sleep.

Unfortunately, that was because she was saving her energy to come back at 5am and refuse to return to her own bed (Destroyer was coughing) and then sleep clutching my arm to make it impossible for me to sleep. Thanks, daughter.

While the sky stayed dark, I read Death Grip. If you’re trying to lift your spirits by reading a book about addiction to benzodiazepan then something is up. Just before seven, I consoled myself with booking more hotel rooms online, then went to wake everyone up. Of course by then, La Serpiente was sound asleep and couldn’t be roused, so I prevailed on my wife to make us all eggs for breakfast, and the smell of that woke La Serpiente up.

And of course, then she demanded peanut butter on toast and refused to eat any eggs. Thanks, dearest.

So I took them to school and then went to work, a bit bleary eyed, reviewed some code while drinking from my very own china espresso cup (eschewing paper to show how posh I am), ran a meeting about measurement, reviewed some code, interviewed three different people, and then realised it was 7pm and it was time to go home.

So that was the day, really. It was my turn to pacify the girls tonight, and then, exhausted, we were both climbing into bed at 10pm. I hope the rest of the week is easier.

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