I feel sick.

Annoyingly. Not violently sick, certainly not enough to BE sick, but enough to feel a bit sorry for myself. It’s worse if I have to get up too suddenly – which I do, because Daisy’s been waking up a bit earlier since the clocks changed (though she’s adjusting nicely, and should be back to normal in a few days). If I take the morning gently enough, it’s usually worn off by about 10.30am. But every day I can’t shake off the feeling that I’ve missed the best part of the day for getting things done, and that I’m running to catch up for the rest of the day.