Starting the week with a new vlog. One with a ridiculous title – Haircuts and Butt Hinges – but I didn’t have the energy to think of something better. I was so tired yesterday I barely had the energy to think of a title at all – the video was nearly just called “Vlog”. I was so tired I forgot to put both of my breasts inside my bra – I spent half of the day with the right one running free, so to speak, and the cup (it was a nursing bra) hanging loose inside my t-shirt. It wasn’t until I got back home again from our shopping expedition that I realised that I also had completely odd socks on and dark streaks of unblended foundation on my cheeks where I had been testing out different shades.
It’s no surprise I was tired, really – I’d like to blame it on motherhood, that old chestnut, but it wouldn’t be strictly true. On Friday night I stayed up until 2am editing my novel (it’s done! I just need to find someone crazy enough to want to read it!) and then my mind was whirring and I didn’t get to sleep until four. On Saturday night, I went to bed at 10pm but Mr AMR insisted on having a Ray Donovan marathon (excellent TV show, not some weird sexual act) and we didn’t turn the light off until 1.30am. So all the tiredness is, stupidly, totally self-inflicted. These late nights are all well and good if you can just laze about the next day, get up at 10, have a leisurely brunch and wonder ...