Shut-up Birds! (and everyone else)

The following is a true, and unfortunately not at all exaggerated story.

Today is the official day of �Writer�s Week�: my week off from work to hang out at home and catch up on some sleep and write.

So yesterday morning I woke up with a big of a sore throat. My flatmate Betty had a cold last week, so this wasn�t a huge surprise. I got through the day ok though, not feeling great but not really any worse until late in the day when I got tired.

I then woke up at 4.56am this morning with a totally blocked nose, a very sore throat and no night-time cold and flu tablets. I dosed and grumbled without opening my eyes for some time figuring that I�d eventually go back to sleep.

And then the birds started.

Chirp, chirp. Sing, sing. Enjoy the predawn Spring morning. Shut the fuck up birds.

I was also starting to get hungry, and actually contemplated getting up. But I pushed that quickly aside.

Betty was at this point pottering around the house getting organised to go to the gym at a completely unreasonable hour. Being quiet as usual - but I was already awake so I heard every little movement in the kitchen and up and down the hallway. Then she left and I hoped to be able to doze off. Or not.

After trying for around an hour I was still unsuccessful in going back to sleep so I put on the light, popped a heavy-duty cough lolly and peeled my eyes open to read for about 20 minutes. It wasn�t making me sleepy but at about 6.30 I turned off the light and did start to doze off.

Then the workmen who are building townhouses at the back of the lane way that runs by our house - by my room - arrived right on time and started beep-beep-beeping backing their large trucks up the lane. This is not only disturbing because of the beeps, but also because the lane way is not very wide and I�m always slightly concerned that they�re going to take a small wrong turn and clip the house.

I was fighting a loosing battle with any kind of sleep by this point because I was awake enough to start thinking about the work stuff I still have to do even though I officially have the week off. Stop being so diligent! Leave it to the boss.

And finally, at 7.43, there�s a knock at the front door. I get up to answer it thinking it could be one of two people: the workmen next door having broken a water pipe or something, or the postman (who often come at around 8am) delivering Betty's Indiana Jones DVDs and not being able to fit them in the mailbox. But no, its the guy coming to read the water meter which is right at the back of our back yard and can�t be accessed unless someone is home. He was a little scared by me in my pyjamas with red eyes, bed hair and snotty nose, opening the door. He read the meter quickly and got out of here and I gave up and threw down some daytime cold and flu tablets and made vegemite toast, which I�m now eating.

Crap, crap and crap. A really unfair way to start the week, I think.

I refuse to get out of my pyjamas though. I will be going back to sleep - probably on the couch which is not on the side of the house where the workmen are - sooner rather than later.

Oh, and yeah, I also can�t have my planned pedicure this week because I partly destroyed my feet last week with a new pair of flip-flops that I wore too long and went past blisters into just tearing up the top of my feet. So I can�t get them wet.

Crap.