Am I the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night and thinks mad thoughts? Why did I buy those shoes when I know I will break my ankle in them? Ankles? Why didn't I become a teacher instead of a writer? Why is my book which I've already spent more than a year writing about a woman called Sugar who sells Honey instead of a woman called Honey who sells Sugar?
In the morning I remember that the shoes were on sale, you only need one ankle anyway, teachers are over-worked and underpaid plus have to go to school, and Sugar's bees are the buzz in my book and actual sugar doesn't have that, apart from the diabetic kind.
And anyway, why worry?
(1) I'm going to Paris for the spring
(2) I'm going to Paris for the spring.