The things that go bump…

One of the pluses of Himindoors’ return to the labour force is that we have been going to bed at a more sensible hour recently, although if we’re honest, that really is only the difference between 2.30am and 1.30am. Such disruption to my sleep patterns, however, has created some bizarre results. Not only have I taken to waking in the night with the urge to get straight up and google stuff, but it has also given me certifiable inclinations to do things like housework on my day off. So, this morning I have cleaned our kitchen worktops to within a millimetre of their lives – something brought about by having watched Food Inspectors last night and been frightened by the dour faced git telling us that our kitchen surfaces were positive death traps. Several things spring to mind regarding this tidying and cleaning malarkey: first, I am sure that like most of you dear readers, tidying comprises little other than moving stuff from one place to another. Indeed in our house it has got to the point where stuff appears now to move itself – as in some sort of object osmosis where those sundry items you have left lying around (mostly because you can’t be arsed finding somewhere to put them) have moved themselves from an area of high clutter to one of lesser clutter. Such ability of Stuff (on which I am now bestowing a capital letter) to migrate caused me a sweary moment during today’s worktop cleaning frenzy, as I stood back proudly to admire my squeaky clean and completely uncluttered worktop, only to turn round and find that all the Stuff had migrated to the worktop behind me that I hadn’t yet cleaned. No prizes for guessing where it all went when I started on that particular surface. The second thing about cleaning is that people tend to go all wrinkle-nosed around you in shops, which leads me to think that Eau de Cilit Bang might not be entirely marketable as a perfume – unless of course there is a very restricted (and quite possibly very dodgy) niche market out there for it.

The nocturnal googling is something else altogether. Going to bed early deprives me of at least an hour’s worth of searching for things (or possibly that should be Things) that have caught my eye and vaguely interested me. Last night’s 3am search was for a term I’d semi-consciously heard while dozing off in front of the 6 o’clock news.

So for the record, pelagic fish are those one which live near the surface of coastal, ocean or lake waters. NEVER confuse them with demersal fish which are, titteringly, bottom dwellers – a concept which I remember a colleague at the RSPB trying to explain to two spotty teenage work experience schoolboys who sniggered the whole way through her explanation, and consequently earned themselves the nicknames Beavis and Butthead for the rest of their spell with us.

The things that go bump in your mind in the night.

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