Sometimes, your phone battery is down to 19% (because of a million football whatsapps) and you’re ready for bed, even though it’s only half past eight (because there was a kid’s “sleep”over here last night).

And then you remember that you have blogging commitments. Better sort that out before one or other energy source expires then.

’tis done. And so am I.


So it turns out that getting your broken father onto a KLM 777-306(ER) at Cape Town International just before midnight on a Tuesday isn’t an absolutely straightforward experience, but can be aided by helpful staff. And so it turned out to be. Thanks to all concerned.

Still, upon returning home, I was quite reasonably expecting things to be more straightforward, but they weren’t, and 30 minutes after leaving the airport, I found myself showering our son because he was so feverish that he was having hallucinations.
A few SMSs later, and having been assured that Dad was on the flight, I settled off to sleep, only to be woken at 2, 3, 4 (thrice?) and 6 (twice) by the sound of copious vomiting from the Boy Wonder’s room.

I’m not quite with it today. The plan was to stay up and watch the footy tonight, but I’ll be lucky to make kick off.

In the meantime, here’s something that amused me this morning:

I’ve no idea if it’s grammatically correct, but I’m all about pseudo-intellectual, seasonal cartoons, especially when I’m so tired I can hardly think, so it’ll do nicely.

P.S. The boy is doing better this morning, thank you.
And Dad’s plane landed safely in Amsterdam, but I haven’t heard from him. Yet.

UPDATE: Apparently he’s on his connecting flight. I know you were all worried. Thanks for the concern.

The World Cup is killing me

These late nights are killing me. Actually, it’s the early mornings in hellish conjunction with the late nights that are killing me.

2010’s games seemed to be at a much more acceptable hour, almost as if they were designed to be comfortable for our time zone. Weird.

Right now, I’m wondering whether I can afford a couple of extra hours to watch Ghana play the USA.
It sounds like quite an attractive idea at the moment, but that might not be the case at 6am tomorrow.

UPDATE: And why this fuss? Because death by World Cup exhaustion is a thing.

Darling Daughter

With Mrs 6000 away in Jo’burg, little K-pu decided to literally throw her toys out of the cot at 3:10am this morning. We didn’t get back to sleep.
I’m pretty knackered, as you might imagine, hence this completely inappropriate quota photo of her back in November 2008.

The sort of wholly unjustified behaviour she demonstrated last night is really not typical of her and I wanted to be angry, but one quick cuddle and my annoyance was put firmly on the back burner.

Damn you, Mother Nature.