insomnia
The sprinklers outside my window turn on at 2:45am every morning. I know this not because they wake me up.
I need to fix my sleep pattern…
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This is what happens when I’m not around to pressure you to go to bed at 11 every night.
If it’d help, I could call you each night and bitch about how you still have the light on and I’m trying to sleep. Just to keep the routine intact ^_~
Comment left on July 17, 2006 @ 4:36 pm
I notice the sprinklers too because that’s about the time i come home. hah…
Comment left on August 25, 2006 @ 7:12 pm
She made a step or two into the back drawing-room, and cleald —“Priscilla! Dear Priscilla!”Thus excluded from everybody’s confidence, and attaining no further, by my most earnest study, than to an uncertain sense of something hidden from me, it would appear reasonable that I should have flung off all these alien perplexities. Obviously, my best course was to betake myself to new scenes. Here I was only an intruder. Elsewhere there might be circumstances in which I could establish a personal interest, and people who would respond, with a portion of their sympathies, for so much as I should bestow of mine.Nevertheless, there occurred to me one other thing to be done. Remembering old Moodie, and his relationship with Priscilla, I determined to seek an interview, for the purpose of ascertaining whether the knot of affairs was as inextricable on that side as I found it on all others. Being tolerably well acquainted with the old man’s haunts, I went, the next day, to the saloon of a certain establishment about which he often lurked. It was a reputable place enough, affording good entertainment in the way of meat, drink, and fumigation; and there, in my young and idle days and nights, when I was neither nice nor wise, I had often amused myself with watching the staid humors and sober jollities of the thirsty souls around me.At my first entrance, old Moodie was not there. The more patiently to await him, I lighted a cigar, and establishing myself in a corner, took a quiet, and, by sympathy, a boozy kind of pleasure in the customary life that was going forward. The saloon was fitted up with a good deal of taste.
Comment left on December 17, 2015 @ 12:38 am