I'm not ignoring my blog. I've been so busy and tired lately that I haven't been able to sort myself out.
I had a couple of days off the week before last and it turned into a massive bout of migraine and insomnia that lasted until last night.
Matters weren't helped by the shenanigans next door. The tenant has turned her house over to drug users and occasionally dealers and prostitutes showed up as well.
It's. Been. Brilliant. Fun.
I was invited to the Police Station on Tuesday to make a Witness Impact Statement (signing myself Resident A - there was no Resident B) and Wednesday I got a call asking me if I could have a "little listen" to next door and see if I could hear anything.
I got out of bed and went for a wander occasionally listening with my ear to the party wall. Nope. Nothing. I told PC Teddy Bear that I couldn't hear anything. He told me that tallied with 'intelligence' and told me he'd ring again. Later.
At 12:15am, the Police caved the front door in with one of their Acme Door Openers and found, well, nothing. As I continually heard them shouting to each other. "There's fuck all here, mate!", "We raided for nothing, there's nothing here!"
I do believe I did tell them that.
As they stamped and galumphed over the house, I got another 'phone call.
At 12:40 am.
They'd found nothing but it was a worthwhile effort as they'd spoken to the tenant who was round her Mum's house (in the next street) and she'd agreed to give up the tenancy. She'd lost control over who came to the house and many of the visitors left her frightened. The landlord's hands were tied by legalities but if the tenant can be persuaded to give up the tenancy and leave voluntarily then the house wasn't a nuisance to the neighbourhood for as long.
I thanked PC Bear and managed to get some sleep after about 4am.
I woke up with the alarm almost too dizzy to stand without rocking, my fingers fuzzy and the world around me throbbing in time to my pulse. The consequences of severe insomnia is a lot like being very drunk but without the expense of the booze.
In that state, I was going to be positively dangerous around a laboratory. I tried ringing in sick but the 'phone was engaged. I now had to try and stay awake during the day so that I could sleep at night.
I usually try to stay in the house but the temptation to lie down for "a few minutes" was just too great.
I shambled around Wolves city centre for a while. I had to stop every once in a while to stop the sensation that I was about to fall over. I was veering off to the left a lot. Either into people's front walls or off the pavement. I was very close to just sitting down in the Mander Centre with the old men who congregate there and nap.
Trying to sleep on Thursday night was just futile. Many of the people who used the house didn't know it had been raided. One prostitute click clacked down the road, hammered and shouted to be let in before using to the shared doorstep to have a piss. While she was there, another girl and a client drove up and then drove away when they realised there was no entry.
Some loons in a car showed up, again banging on the door and pacing the pavement as they texted and 'phoned the tenant to be let in.
As soon as the car drove off (registration texted to the police), the prostitute from earlier in the night showed up, texted the tenant and arranged to meet her.
The tenant let her in, they spent a fair amount of time in there before the prostitute click clacked off again and the tenant tried to close the front door which had been splintered open by the police the night before.
She couldn't manage it. She brought in reinforcements and there were three loudly bickering people banging what remained of the door closed and trying to lock it. The rim lock was completely busted but the mortice could hold the door, if they could get it to close. They did eventually.
At about 3am.
Friday was nightmarish. I had trouble putting my socks and trousers on (that balancing on one leg thing was just about beyond me), I was starting to see dark flickers on the edges of my field of vision, the throbbing world thing was harder to shake off and I was just about able to walk to the corner shop and back. By the time I realised that I had to 'phone work, it was too late to get through. After about 8:45am, the 'phone is permanently engaged.
I'd run out of books to listen to, was being driven to distraction by commercial radio and couldn't concentrate enough to read. I sent an e-mail which took far longer to write than it should have done and counted out my spare change. I fumbled, dropped and miscounted £4 of copper and I need another 6 5p pieces for another £5. It was grim. A large portion of my afternoon was spent on my hands and knees looking for dropped coins.
I went to bed at a sensible hour, but again, the tenant had let someone into the house. They left at about 2am with a short spell of the banging and crashing that accompanies closing and locking the front door nowadays.
After a few hours continuous sleep, yesterday wasn't too bad. I had to get up (It's not fair! Weekends are for lie ins!) otherwise I wouldn't be able to sleep at night and I did have a bit of shopping to do.
I was able to do a bit of browsing around the shops (jeans £2 and bag £1 from PDSA and a casual jacket £6.25 from BHF). I missed my creative writing class (and felt guilty about it) and I spent 2 hours wandering around Beatties basement unable to make up my mind about purchasing some trouser hangers.
That's what insomnia does. It quickly erodes the ability to think straight. Even making simple decisions like should I buy three separate hangers or one hanger for four pairs of trousers takes an age.
In the end, various shop assistants kept coming up to me and asking if everything was okay. Did I need any help? Could I use a basket? Would I be interested in a store card? Was I interested in the Krups mixers? I stood too close to the collection of implements for too long. Was I interested in melon/potato/ice cream/butter scoops? Lemon zesters? Olive spoons?
I paid for the three separate hangers and left still unsure if I had made the right choice.
I reinforced the seams of the new bag with gaffer tape (oh the glamour!) and marked up the jeans to be shortened (30R means 6 inches have to lopped off) and then just shambled around doing the laundry and trying to clean out the fridge.
Fortnight old milk anyone?
Today, after a full and quiet night's sleep, I was up and raring to go at 06:30. I'm catching up with all the post and I'm updating my blog. Oooo! Get me. I'm blogging again.