On top of not being in the best of health for the past six weeks, and not being able to take any time off (running your own business has plenty of upsides, the downside being, don't work, don't get paid) we have had the added bonus of poor Josh going through a rather unpleasant bout of night terrors.
Last night, he finally got off at 2.30 AM after a few screaming fits which woke us all, including Charlie. The third time Bean threatened him with bodily damage if he didn't belt up, which isn't much good, as although he's howling like a loon, he's actually asleep. I felt sorry for Charlie as he trudged up the road to get his bus this morning, he was down on his straps.
Poor little sod, Christ knows what goes on in his head, because I certainly struggle to figure it out. Putting aside the fatherly concern, I could have quite happily throttled him around 1 AM when he was in full on nonsensical rant mode.
At some point in the near future I really must ditch all of this gloominess and switch into Funtime Frankie mode. I've turned into a social hermit and barely touched a drop of grog in six weeks. People are talking.