It could happen to a saint
It certainly can.
It happened to me anyway, this morning.
I got up after a grand night’s sleep. I did my morning round which consists of putting on the kettle and toast and while they are heating I give Penny her medicine, I then wash down my own morning pills and then bring breakfast into Herself. A normal routine repeated time and time again.
Then I started bumping into things. Herself complained that I wasn’t making sense and was a bit incoherent. I didn’t know what she was on about and anyway I was feeling really fucking sleepy. This wasn’t like the result of a bad night: this was a desperate urge to sleep. Next thing I fell asleep in my armchair and woke some time later to find Daughter dressed in her work uniform and fussing around me. She did a few tests [apparently trying to discover if I had a heart attack or stroke] and pronounced me as sane, or in my case, as sane as my normal level. Herself had been worried and tossed up between phoning for an ambulance or Daughter. Fortunately Daughter won.
A wee while later, after Daughter had gone, I discovered what was wrong. It wasn’t a stroke or a heart attack. There was nothing wrong with me at all. It was just that I had accidentally popped the wrong lid in my little box of delights and had swallowed my night meds and not my morning shit. Night meds include some pretty heavy stuff guaranteed to knock me out. It’s no wonder I felt so fucking weird.
So now I have no night meds for tonight. I phoned the chemist to see if I could bum a couple of tabs for tonight but she said no, as I can only take one dose a day, and that I had had it. Bugger!
So it looks like a sleepless night tonight.
I must charge up my Kindle…..
Right, well you obviously have that one under control. If I miss, I resume next day. Come to think of it, haven’t had today’s yet.