Today I am tired, because last night after we got home from the swim and the meal, I watched Survivor (totally sucked in by the Russell narrative and hoping he doesn’t get voted off, like, for ages), then, when I should have gone to bed, I started ranting at the mister about things which I dare not mention, that dare not mention thing being one of the problems really.
Or, to put it more succinctly (which I’m sure the mister wishes I had done last night): you don’t have to be stuck in a lift to be feeling claustrophobic.
Hang in there. I have been reading a bit of Dark Places myself lately. Or isn’t it just a metaphor?