the desperate challenge of daily life

MEH.

I went to the Debenhams sale today. I've been meaning to buy a new duvet forever - my father kindlly bought us one years ago, a medium tog one, saying he'd get us the winter part so we could clip them together. Fabliss, we thought. But he never did, and I bought another, lighter one, which sadly was not quite the same size - and neither had any clips anyway, so winters have been lumpy for several years now. You know the feeling of being half covered, unequal (literally, not metaphorically).

So my fellow blogger Midget Wrangler transitioned up from the world of hollowfibre (BLEH!) to duck feather, but I have noticed, having taken the new duvet out of its packaging, that it's duck feather alone, not feather and down as my old one was. So I'm afeard that rather than soft and fluffy, its going to be heavy and spiky. So I think I may have traded down (heh heh, literally this time, down for feather).

But why, readers, why did I not assimilate this info from the box? Why do I wait til it's Too Late and then agonise about things? I do all these things that make my life harder - it's like I see the world through a misty clous of absent mindedness and indescision. I answer my own questions and then ask my husband anyway, having forgotten I've already had the conversation once. I leave things behind everywhere I go. It's like I life my life as if wearing someone else's glasses. It's exhausting. And on top of the hassles, I have the continuous frustration of being annoyed with myself, at having done the wrong thing. This may seem like an inconsequential exampe, but they add up. I wonder would some concentration Australian Bush Essence help, or the icky omega oils, seeing as I'm not going to be getting brain enhancing sleep for some time.