So many thoughts ...

... so little time.

100 thought flit through my mind all at once. I can't separate them into individual threads of consciousness.

Tomorrow is my first day at my new job.

My mobile phone is somewhere else in the house and is beeping.

I've had a lovely weekend away with a friend who I've known, we worked out, for 14 years. I last saw him in May.

The dining room is finally painted.

It's a new phone and I'm not used to it's peeps and whistles yet.

A friend of mine is a new Auntie.

What should I wear tomorrow? Trousers or a skirt? Flats or heels?

Another friend is going to India for the week tomorrow.

The house smells of fresh paint. It's comforting and stifling both at once.

Perhaps the beeping means I've got a new text message.

I'm a small bit jealous of her adventure. But I'm a big bit thrilled for her too.

We went together to the village Christmas market, where his mother was running the raffle.

I think maybe just black will be best. Trousers and a top. Low heels. It'll be safest.

Her new nephew is called Felix Ernest. What a mouthful!

I should move all the furniture back into the new room, from around the house, and get a bit of order back.

I only bought raffle tickets because I felt a bit guilty. She was raising funds for the church.

I ought to go and find the phone. It's bleeping like mad, and it might be important.

But maybe a nice necklace. Something chunky or coloured to cheer it up a bit.

She's excited for her sister and her new baby boy, of course, but sad that her parents might now not come to them for Christmas, but go to bounce their new Grandson on their knee instead.

I ended up winning first prize! Three boxes (THREE!) of Thornton's chocolates. That'll be nice for Christmas treats.

What will the weather be like in December in India?

Or maybe my red shoes. Would that be too much?

Och! That phone!

I understand her upset. I want to fix it and tell her that it's a one off. One of those things. But it does always seem to be one of those things, and I know it would just be platitudes. I can only tell her that I don't know what to say, and it seems so weak.

How will I sleep?