A good Monday

Today started off quite bad.

I woke up after what felt like seven seconds of sleep, it was still dark outside and it was time to go to work, and it's been raining for days. It kind of felt more like England than Australia. I sat up in my bed, still a bit unsure of my exact whereabouts.

Luckily (or not, considering the status of my brain), it wasn't time for work. Actually, it was 01.10 and I still had another couple of hours of sleep ahead of me. Nevertheless, from what I hear from people, it was a weird night. H and G didn't get much sleep either, and a couple more people at work were zombieing around the office.

Still, that didn't bring me down. I remembered to go out to the terrace and get my clothes off the line. It was surely going to rain, so I thought I better take it off and place it on random stuff all over the terrace.

Even though it started raining as soon as I left the office - while it's been sunny all day while I was sitting in the office - my clothes were safe and sound (and dry) by the time I got home. I was caught in a bit of rain, but it didn't really matter. Although in a weird way, it made me feel a bit more local.

I went to check a flat and I have to say it looks great. Well, at least it looks like it does on the photos. It's right by the train station, seven minutes from work, and the price is acceptable. Right at the limit I'm not really willing to go over. And I'd have a spare room for all the people who'd eventually crash.

After I got home, I realized that my Master card had arrived and I found some more important post in the letter box. Nothing for H and G, but hey - it's kind of my day. We had dinner and a beer, and watched an episode of something on the TV.

Now I can only hope together is going to be as good as today. And that tonight will be better than last night...

My bed (as weird as it sounds)

There is rarely a more soothing feeling than laying down in one own's bed. Even as I wanted to type this up, I had trouble getting out of it, but it's a good thing I did, since I probably wouldn't remember it tomorrow morning.

I don't know why it's like that, but there was a time when my bed was the most comfort I'd get. Maybe I'm just not that much into affection, or I haven't lived with someone long enough. But the cozy feeling I get once my head touches the sheets is simply beyond anything that has happened that day.

Sometimes, when I'm having a bad day, the only comfort I'm aiming for is my bed. I find myself jumping up my street, knowing that I'll be in the warm, fuzzy and soothing lap of my world.

Usually when I'm very drunk. Or frozen. Or both.

The bed's nothing special. IKEA style, make-it-yourself and all that crap. Like that's possible. I can't say it was easy putting it together, but I'm glad I got it. The mattress is not one of those you see advertized by blond moms with gigantic grins. The wooden skeleton had probably been recycled five times already and carries more of a packaging smell than the actual wood.

The good thing is it's wide. 160 centimeters, although I was aiming for 180. That would've been fun, since it would probably take at least a third of the usable space in my squalor. 160 will simply have to do.

The mattress is already starting to wear off, keeping in mind that I sit on its upper part most of the time - including now, as I'm typing this. The quilt is thin but warm, causing both fuzzy and goose-bumpy feelings once pulled over my body. Especially since I tend to go mummy style, especially during the winter.

Mmm, I'm almost looking forward to it. But I'm not.

I should probably work on getting a fresh set of linen, pillow cases and whatever comes along, but since I've spent most of my life sleeping pillowless, I kind of put it aside every time I think of it.

The last pillow I owned was tossed into the trash a long time ago. I got it from my sister and I remember it had the Melmac-born Alf on it. Ultra thin as it was, it didn't take long for it to wear down, so it was only a matter of time when it would go beyond the reach of recognition.

As it has. I digress.

Now that I've written this, I have no idea why I even got up from the coziness that I had already dived into. I might as well just dive back in.


Edit: I woke up with a stiff neck. Go figure.

A Red Apple to nibble on

I go to bed early, since I made a strong resolution to finally get some sleep. Midnight isn't even close yet and it puts a grin on my face. I might go to bed before midnight one day. Yay.

Even though the shutters are down, I can see light being turned off and on in the back yard. It's all white outside, so it shines even brighter when the goofiest dog in the world walks by the sensor and turns the light bulb on.

I can turn the blinds all the way down, but then there's a risk of sleeping in and waking up at four in the afternoon the next day ― or should I say evening, since that's when it's already dark. That would make a full circle indeed.

So, I write some emails, say hi to some friends, watch another lame Hollywood blockbuster (I really have to make myself stop doing that) and it's two already. So much for sleeping. I can barely keep my eyes open to push the laptop away and I doze off. And not in a good way.

I keep waking up during the night, since I obviously kick the covers off and freeze my ass off. I have these insane dreams ― all the time. I'm in India, but there's someone there to take me away. Or I'm going somewhere, but someone stops me. Or I'm enjoying my friends' company, but someone immensely creepy slides in. Or I'm being chased ― that happens often.

I wake up for what seems the seventh time, still unaware of how late or early it is. I swear at myself for being such a lame person to subject my life to that of a dog. And it's not even my dog.

My eyes are still half shut and I'm too paranoid to turn the light on and check the time. Even when I pick up my phone to check it out, the light is too bright. And it wouldn't change anything anyway.

[The dog is barking like mad as I'm typing this...]

I've been waking up early lately. Well, earlier than usual. Although it's late. If that makes any sense. I wake up a couple of minutes before the buzzer goes wild. I can sleep twenty hours a day, so you can imagine why I find it so disturbing.

And it happens this morning as well. So I lie on my back and try to figure out how much light there is outside. I'm thinking how many seconds will pass until the alarm goes off. I count up to five and I'm bored already.

There's a door bell and someone walking down the stairs. A phone rings, some neighbours are chatting and I'm pissed off. Once again I'm letting my life be less important than others'. One day I'll hit the headlines under Ran berserk towards two neighbours with a lighter and a can of hair spray. Presumably on a windy day, so I'd just end up locked up with people who talk to their toes. Maybe they'd stuff me with Eszopiclone, Zaleplon and Zolpidem and then I'd finally get some sleep.

It feels surreal and suddenly I see images from Fight Club. Is this me? Or a copy? Have I seen it in the film, or maybe it was a dream. Did I dream about it? I try to make some sense out of all those images, but I can't even remember glimpses of them ― they're all mashed up and blurry.

In the end, the resolution I've made turns into the tiniest possible resolution you can imagine ― 5x7 pixels or something around that size. My whole visible spectre has boiled down to 35 dots that are just a bit brighter than complete darkness. I can't see anything in it, especially when I don't get my sleep.