Demon days, Damon nights

I'm really fecked off with August. Or rather, the situation I'm definitely in until August ends. Flat broke (again) + exhausted all the time (actually, that's beginning to worry me a bit) = no craic + haven't the energy to go out even if I had the means.

Feck.

However, I'm feeling like less of a freak on the exhaustion front. If only because the Aussie and even — EVEN — Lord Simon have also complained about wanting to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I think someone's coming in in the middle of the night and stealing my energy.

Okay, that's grasping at straws and doesn't make a lick of sense. Not least if you're in my line of work...

But lastnight I had a dream with Matt Damon in it. This made me happy. Much happier than the previous night's dream about a green wasp which was chasing me. And which everyone said I should let sting me, because — even though it'd hurt like a bastard — it had several antibodies (or something) in the sting which would eventually do me more good than harm. I did not succumb to their logic, and was convinced I could hear buzzing in my ear for a good five minutes after I woke up. Mind you, lastnight's dream did end in me being pulled over by the police in America. Only for me to realise that someone else had left their (flapjack-shaped!) block of blow in my car. How happy was I when the dog seemed more interested in something innocent on the back seat! The suspense was still in full swing when the alarm went off.

I'm thinking I'll take Saturday off completely. Unless Dr Buxey calls round...