Rock-a-bye-baby.

How many ice creams do you have in your freezer?

Now if you are not a mad ice cream lover or if you prefer your pudding in a tub, or you are on some shitful diet which precludes one of the day's biggest highlights ( sorry to hear this - Bugger!) well then maybe the answer is a simple NONE, and you know this cos you haven't bought so  much as a box of Paddle Pops since 1972 when you need the sticks for a science project.

But ice cream is my bloody favourite end of day treat. I have been known to chow it down by the litre, especially if it's the good stuff, but at a tenner a tub, that's an expensive bit of pudding. I do love curling up in my chair and grabbing a spoon and hooking straight into the carton. Yeh Stevie doesn't eat it. Lucky huh cos otherwise I'd need to pop some in a bowl to avoid cross contamination.

My Lovely Girl and I were out for a girlie dinner at the pub on Tusday. The grandie boy was off on holidays with his father, so we pushed the boat out and ventured out into the public domain. She had steak and I had a seafood mix and then when we were done, she scouted out the desserts and we both decided just a bowl of ice cream would be lovely, but it needed to be a BIG bowl. The waiter understood, cos she was a bit of a creamy fiend too, and she did indeed deliver 2 walloping bowls full. It was OK but not the good stuff, not so bad as we left any though.

In an attempt to avoid spending night after night sleeping sitting up, because there is a fine line between enough 'animal fat' and so much that heart burn is a bitch, Stevie often buys 4 packs of wonderful ice cream treats, and as the week disappears, I am always aware of exactly how many are left in the freezer.

I like to spend the day comfortable in the knowledge that at the going down of the sun and the slumping of my arse into my chair for my daily dose of shit TV, there will be a delicious treat which with any luck, will not be slopped all down the front of me - happens at least half the time, Oh Well!

But this week my mind has definitely left the building. 4 nights with no sleep at all, scrambling all over the loungeroom floor, will do that to the poor old grey matter. Last night Stevie set me up in his study on the floor with the doors closed and the radio on loud enough to cover the noise outside, and I don't know if it was the change in geography or just complete and utter debilitating exhaustion, but I did sleep, 9 glorious hours with only 8 times flailing about and 3 times fully awake for sometime, and I'll bet that was when the noise outside far exceeded the radio levels inside.

So I've been too tired to keep an ice cream tally which is usually as instinctive as breathing. BUGGER!

All I can say is that it's just as well that I am not in charge of heavy equipment cos then at best I would be doing a Georgiou level shit job, and at worst I could kill someone.

Sleep, it is something that we take for granted, and by we, I mean people who do not have babies and small children, cos I reckon sleep might just be a bit of a distant memory for them - I truly do not know how parents who work outside the home manage - just throwing clothes on and remembering to brush my teeth has been a struggle this week. I have not combed my hair, the washing has laid idle, and cooking has been done on auto pilot. If I had thrown being in charge of 200 kids into the mix, well all I can say is that havoc would have doubtless ensued.

TMR have refused all phone calls this week, with promises from the switch board person,  that someone would ring me back 'shortly'. The powerlessness and the inability to find anyone, anyone at all, willing to stand up and take responsibility for the construction planning and execution is as debilitating as the lack of sleep.

Will anyone give this tired woman with only 1 ice cream left a clue about how to actually discuss any of this with someone with seniority in a government department? PLEASE!