morning head: ‘Fraid Knot.

At some point in the night I woke up, damp with sweat, half choked by my necklaces, and struggled to rid myself of the offending tangle.

In the wee hours, an ungodly time to be awake, the alarm goes off. The charger cable for the phone has got looped around my wrist in my nocturnal thrashings and when I reach out to silence the infernal noise, I fling the phone halfway across the room, and have to get out of bed to turn the fucking thing off. At least I’m awake.

At the chaos of my desk, I’m forced to tidy the detritus before I can even consider working. It’s like a briar patch of cordage. Headphone connectors, proprietary power cords, and enough USB cables to garrotte a fucking elephant. Who even uses mini-USB anymore? Fuck’s sake.

The more I think about it, the more I realise the state of my head is much reflected by the cords in my life.

Nary a day goes by when I am not standing in the street, patience frayed, with one foot on the brake of the pram, trying not to wake a sleeping kid while I swear bloody murder at the knotted earphones that hang around my neck.

Tangle-free earphone cables, my arse.