Voodoo plumbers

Nightmares have returned, which I think are triggered somehow by the antibiotics. Since I was a child I have dreamed about tornadoes, and in my dream I was walking through a post apocalyptic city, crawling into some kind of broken carriage or freight container and then lofted high into the sky by twisting black clouds. Unnecessary. As is Brian's new 4 am trick of returning to the house and miaowing at two-second intervals downstairs, then up the stairs and then into the bedroom, where Lorraine asks him what's wrong and he goes suddenly quiet.

Kept a low profile today, but thinking hard about the relationships between brands and creative territories for  the business book, and listening to my Seasons in the Sun audiobook again. Emails with Sophie and Matty boy, and a nice chat with Bob.

Decked the Christmas tree with lights, and turned them on just before Lorraine came home. They didn't work, which Lorraine said was a schoolboy mistake as I hadn't checked them first. Unwound them and then tried another string of lights, which did work. Wound these around the tree but having been put in place refused thereafter to work.  Thwarted.

Chasing new plumbers, who haven't got back to me with their promised quote. Christmas gift idea: wax voodoo plumber dolls, that once you've had your jabby fun with, you flush them away to spawn supernaturally in the sewers. Eventually they are able to pop their waxy bodies out of cisterns and toilet bowls and drag selected plumbers to premature, watery graves.

Perhaps I need to get out more.

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