I have clearly become more mature and self-controlled since I was eighteen.

I can tell this because that was the previous time I had half an hour of sleep in a night due to insomnia. At the time it put me in such a bad mood that when I got up I had a temper tantrum, hurled a hairbrush I'd had since childhood across the bedroom, broke it, and spent several years trying to find a replacement that worked nearly as well.

Last night I had half an hour of sleep again, and all it left me with was a steely determination not to take any nonsense from anyone today. Which probably worked out well, since British Gas sent me another fictitious bill yesterday so I had to ring them up this morning to argue some more. After browbeating them with a pageful of facts that I'd carefully collected since our last frank exchange of views, they agreed (again) that they were wrong and I was right, and promised (again) to send me a revised bill which made sense. I don't feel 100% confident that they'll actually do so, given that they didn't the last time, but it's something to hope for at least.

So here I am at work regardless, brain mostly made of cheese (and not even nice cheese – perhaps that plastic cheese-alike you melt on top of beefburgers), rather hoping that I can find something to do today which won't require me to think very hard. Perhaps I'll empty my inbox, or something like that. I fear I might not manage to get to the Calling tonight either, which is a shame, but if I'm going to fall asleep then better to do it at home…