in which my nerves are frayed but my whites have the freshness of scandinavia

Death by a thousand paper cuts this morning as I battled the bureaucracy of two telecommunications companies. The most upsetting part is the cheery voice-recorded Everywoman who assures me that my business is important to her before shunting me to departments all over Bangalore and then ignominiously cutting me off. What is their best-practice on customers who aren't important, I wonder? Prank calls? Knee-capping? Burning paper bags of dog shit on the doorstep?

So it was nice to get something real and satisfying done today too.

Ivy and I made laundry liquid from this recipe. We left out the borax, added geranium essential oil and a bit of green food colouring. Here it sits on the laundry windowsill above Ivy's current favourite bath spot. A slightly bilious green, but a satisfying harvest anyway.














I'm writing this between trips every five minutes to Teddy's room to pat and comfort him as he cries desperately. He's just unable to get himself to sleep these days. Things are better than a week or two ago when he was waking, crying, every forty-five minutes through the night, even in bed with us.

It's so heartbreaking watching him struggle, especially for a baby that didn't cry for his first six months of life. Perhaps he's just making up for lost time? He is so upset, and I am so helpless. I swear it is taking years off my life.

Wait!

Asleep!

No.

False alarm.

Any advice gratefully received.