Sunday, 15 February 2015
The fact that I don't sleep at night isn't the cows fault. I blame my dad for that one. Insomnia runs rife through his family. My dad often worked night jobs, my aunt bakes cakes at midnight and from what I've heard my grandmother wasn't one for going to bed either. Thankfully I don't suffer from it that badly. I'm an awful sleeper at the best of times, but insomnia itself only gets me in its grips for a couple of weeks every few months. My one saving grace during those times is that I nap really well in the afternoon. To me a long siesta after lunch is just bliss. When you lay your heavy head on the pillow and within moments you feel yourself drifting further away from reality and closer to wherever it is we go when we're sleeping. Then suddenly MOOOOOAGHHHHHRRR, and I'm sitting bolt upright in bed again! MOOOOORRAAAGHHHAAA! Somebody is murdering the neighbours, they must be! I feel my heart beating faster... and then I remember the cows. Those damn cows! They're not massacring the neighbours, nor is anybody torturing the cows, they just want to be moved. And it's not even because they're starving, they're just bored. Social creatures that they are, they don't like to be left in one place for too long and begin demanding entertainment (or a change of scenery). This special moo is just like a toddler saving a particular whine in order to get attention. It grates you in that particular way that means you simply can't ignore it.
Well and there you have it, now Ayana is up, I haven't slept a wink and the afternoon must go on! I just needed to get that off my chest (clearly). You can expect more crazy rants from me that make no particular sense in the near future.