Sleep eluded me like a teddy in a claw machine, its softness always slipping from my grasp. My wife lay beside me, snoring contentedly – a buzzing wasp that I wanted to swat but didn’t dare. She only got mad with me, sometimes for days, and I only got all hot and bothered from moving, and further from escaping consciousness. Instead, I just lay there, thinking about all the things I was dreading about tomorrow, and all the ways in which it was going to be even worse without a good night’s sleep.

At work, I waded through treacle. Each sleepless night thickened the gloop that coated everything. Movement was slow and painful.