It's not like I have anything better to do...

than just hang around.

No, I have nothing better to do than listen to the high pitched screech of teenagers who suddenly act surprised that a deadline is next week and they have missed the boat.

I have nothing better to do than go out hunting for my child who tried to give me some sort of coronary crisis this evening, when he didn't return home from what should have been a brief trip. It all turned out fine - he had gone to a friend's house instead, but left his phone here so I didn't have a clue. Panic. Visions of a variety of macabre outcomes. He has, for the first time, felt the full force of my wrath - he has never, ever heard me shout. It wasn't loud, but it was very very angry - he went and hid, before coming downstairs to face the inevitable lecture, before we hugged and made up.

No, I have marking to do. Statistics to crunch. A website to update. Decisions to make. Letters to write. Parcels to post. Tea to cook. Laundry to do. Ironing that has been ignored for weeks. I have a bottle of wine I would sorely love to open. So that's what I am going to do.

The machine - make of it what you will...
torture device; a useful thing for stretching my back out when it is sore; a nice 'weightless' approach to lying down - when you get the balance right; climbing frame for cats; clothes rail; another piece of evidence to add to the list that suggests I am either crazy or a vampire.

Night all - after a strong desire to sleep well last night, I slept badly and saw the changing of the hour, every hour up to and including 4am. I can't do that again tonight!