as things should

More than muffins, more than coffee, one thing I've missed during my stomach's recent pretending-to-be-really-small phase was the ability to glug down an entire refreshing pint of ground-chilled tap-fresh water, having had to make to with sipping wee bits then feeling full for an hour or so. When I was certain I was back to normal I went for a lunch-wander through the nice splashy damp to my fourth-favourite take-away coffee vendor who fortunately also had a chocolate muffin in stock. I still don't know about my flask (and probably wouldn't bother with it tomorrow anyway as the entire afternoon will be taken up with an off-site corporate excruciation) but tried to get some standard freezing-muffins on the way home only to find the shop I'd chosen out of stock thereof.

Last night the wingpiglet slept all night* in his cot, for the fifth time ever. Instead of a muslin underneath the area his head usually stays generally near Nicky stuck her pillowcase in the hope that the faint smell of her would subtly persuade him to not wake up and start squeaking needlessly until we brought him through. Either that or an absence of troubling intestinal bubblings seems to have done the trick, though we'll know in a few more hours if it was one of them or just another one-off.

Only until 05:45. Still better than 02:30, or 01:10, or before midnight.