S has taken to sprawling herself out in beached-whale-pose on the closest flat surface whenever possible — I’m sure she’s got a mattress set up on the floor of the office from where she orders the underlings about.
I came out of the kitchen tonight to find her in the most un-ladylike of poses thrown across the sofa, slowing rubbing the belly and staring blankly at the ceiling.
“I’m feeling stretchy” she says, “It hurts to move”
Her behaviour has slowly been getting more and more bizarre — a development she seems fully aware of.
While in whale-pose, she told me how last night there was a mosquito whizzing around in the bedroom, I apparently ignored it and went straight to sleep.
S on the other hand turned the light back on and lay there for an hour (seriously) and tried to kill the mosquito — whacking me more than once in the head.
Aside from proving she’s going just a tad mad, it also explains the dreams I was having about someone hitting me in the head with a cricket bat.