I realise that some clarification is needed here: I’ve already expressed sympathy for the individual telesales operator at the other end of the telephone, attempting to beguile me with their wares. I still maintain this position; it can’t be an easy job, and is one that is met mostly with resentment and intolerance.

I’m afraid that I just added to that. I feel guilt for directing my rage at the poor unfortunate ‘Kelly from Everest’, but she had just got me out of the bath.. I know, intellectually, that she is just trying to earn a living, and has the misfortune to have an unpleasant method of doing so, but at the same time I cannot conceal my rage with the *companies* that employ telesales drones.

I am an adult. I appear in the telephone listings because I have a telephone, and an address. I make the assumption here that it has been assumed that we *own* the house, as I would imagine that is pointless attempting to sell glazing products to a tenant.

Therefore, I am an adult who has managed to negotiate the complex and frustrating pathways towards home-ownership, making one of the most expensive decisions and purchases an average human can make.

What on EARTH makes these companies think that I am therefore incapable of seeking out goods and services on my own? That I need someone to telephone me in order that I will notice that I could have my windows glazed. Do they really expect me to suddenly have some kind of epiphany and realise that yes, right now is a fantastic opportunity to have my windows double-glazed, if only I’d realised it sooner, thank you Everest. Gah.

Only the other day, I was wishing that MS Windows XP came with a ‘no, I’m not an idiot, thanks’ button. One that would turn off all the annoying ‘tellytubby’ features and let me actually get some work done without being cossetted and protected from my own potential stupidity. I realise this is the problem when attempting mass-market software that caters to the lowest common denominator, but I can’t say I approve. No-one has an intrisic right to have access to a computer, and there used to be a fair degree of knowledge and skill required to interact with one. Way back then, you could get a sense of having achieved something, and a feeling of personal growth as you mastered the skill.

Now, in the age of mass stupidity and the dumbing down of almost everything in order to cater to all, knowledge is perceived as almost worthless, as you don’t need to know anything to get anything done any more. So, while access for all is an admirable goal in some ways, it also lowers the expectations that we have from our users.

It makes double-glazing sales people expect me to be too helpless to be able to hunt and gather required goods and services..

Well, if you’ve been following the fortunes of the Braggs for the past two years or so, you will be aware that we are growing some lemon plants. I stuck some pips in a pot full of soil, and to my surprise five-sixths of them sprouted.

All are still alive, although I regret not to be able to complete the cliché with ‘and well’. They had been universally happy little lemons all through the summer; revelling in the increased light our new housing arrangements offered to their glossy little leaves. It seems winter leaves a lot to be desired in the lemon-pleasuring department: their leaves are no longer glossy and luxuriant-looking; they rejected proximity to a cold pane of glass, but are now sulking because they are no longer near a window and are starving of light. Much as I hate to disappoint my citrus friends, we cannot, at present, afford to have the house double-glazed just to pander to five recalcitrant plants.

Things are coming to a head though, yesterday it was discovered that Tall Lemon had thrown off 75% of its leaves - overnight. This morning brought the discovery of several further shed leaves. A hasty consultation of that universal oracle Google brought comfort and confusion: we are not necessarily bad lemon-parents, it’s just that lemons are drama queens and will often just decide that all those leaves are not strictly necessary. It can be for a variety of reasons: too hot; too cold; too wet; too dry. Basically, there is no hope of ever discovering the root cause, we just have to weather the leaf-storm and hope they have the brains to leave themselves a few to transpire with.

I shall apply some citrus food, and dust the remaining leaves, as I fear they have been neglected since being relegated to the spare room. We have to keep the door to the spare room closed, otherwise the cat leaps on the printer and presses the sheet-feed button to help herself to a fresh piece of paper to shred. I kid ye not. That’s a smart mog we have there.

I wish. For almost a week now I have been unable to switch my brain off at night, and have found myself spending hour after hour designing the new database that is required at work. Don’t misunderstand me here, there is no-one jumping up and down for this new system, so there is no actual need for me to spending my night hours working out the best way to structure the darn thing.

I am tired. I am so very tired. I now have some kind of cold-thing that the philb was harbouring last week. As a result I am more or less subhuman today. I am weeping with tiredness but still I cannot rest. As soon as I shut my eyes, I find myself fretting about suppliers and services and rent and fees and…

I have to confess that I have always had this problem, albeit to a lesser extent, and have become used to waking in the morning with the answer to something that was puzzling me the day before. I used to solve things in my sleep. Now, I’m not getting as far as the actual sleep.

I have tried relaxing, listening to null-music, reading, bathing, drinking warm milky drinks. All the usual attempts. This morning I woke at 01:47 and lay half-awake until the alarm went off at 05:40.

This cannot continue, I feel weepy and hysterical, like an overtired child. Which, I suppose, I am.

My next batch of Open University study material arrived this morning, and I’m ambivalent towards reading it. You see, I’m studying relational database on this course. Do I really want to be encouraging myself to be thinking about databases, when this is the very thing that is costing me my sanity right now? On the other hand, it may well be of assistance, giving me alternative (and simpler) problems to think about, so I can get the monster out of my brain for long enough to sleep.

As a complete aside, I’m finding the wordpress option/feature ‘Post slug’ a little disturbing. Not that I know what it means, or does, but my enfeebled mind is boggling at the wording. Maybe I should look up what it does, so there is one less for my tired brain to worry about..

So, I come home from work to find that the philb has attempted kitchen-based conflagration. There was a distinct smell of smoke, and he was grinning like a loon. Apparently, fat from the burgers he was grilling ignited and there were interestingly-large flames bellowing forth from our oven-based grill facility.

Understandably, the cat was looking a bit wild-eyed and uncertain but seems to have settled into somnolence now.

Incidentally, I can’t believe I’ve just needed to add a category for ‘doom’.

Also in the philb/insanity department: five minutes ago saw him miowing one of the themes from Lloyd-Webber’s Phantom of the Opera. I radiate concern. Can you feel it?