(no subject)
Today was good. The ride into the city was full of sunlight, I bought two more Mark Helprin books, and Jasmin brought me back a set of juggling balls from Vegas, which was a pretty cool surprise.
Tonight's okay. It's three AM and the whole neighborhood's asleep. I'm trying, and failing, not to creep myself out by wondering what all the tiny little noises are outside. Don't get me wrong, I like suburbia for the peace and quiet, but my imagination turns every unidentifiable noise into... erm... a different, somehow much scarier unidentifiable noise. It doesn't help that one whole wall of this room is floor-to-ceiling windows. Which I can't see through because the yard outside is dark and the lights are on in here.
No, I'm not turning the lights off to see better. That's just what they want me to do. I'm not falling for that.
It's almost certainly the cats that live outside. They were born inside, they grew up inside, and they want back inside. They'll stop at nothing to accomplish this. They climb screens, they scratch at the wood trim on the exterior, they try to dart through the door when people come in and out. They even manage to get into the space between the roof and the ceiling panels, which means that periodically I hear very, very stealthy steps directly overhead. By the way, this never ever stops being creepy.
I know all this, rationally. It's just that my brain hates me, and until it figures out a way to chip through the interior of my skull and escape*, it's amusing itself by playing a best-of-B-movie-horror slideshow everytime there's any kind of sound.
Okay, that's enough of that, brain. Gotta sleep. Major errands to run in the morning.
* It keeps grabbing for the fork when I eat. From inside my head. It is the weirdest sensation.
Tonight's okay. It's three AM and the whole neighborhood's asleep. I'm trying, and failing, not to creep myself out by wondering what all the tiny little noises are outside. Don't get me wrong, I like suburbia for the peace and quiet, but my imagination turns every unidentifiable noise into... erm... a different, somehow much scarier unidentifiable noise. It doesn't help that one whole wall of this room is floor-to-ceiling windows. Which I can't see through because the yard outside is dark and the lights are on in here.
No, I'm not turning the lights off to see better. That's just what they want me to do. I'm not falling for that.
It's almost certainly the cats that live outside. They were born inside, they grew up inside, and they want back inside. They'll stop at nothing to accomplish this. They climb screens, they scratch at the wood trim on the exterior, they try to dart through the door when people come in and out. They even manage to get into the space between the roof and the ceiling panels, which means that periodically I hear very, very stealthy steps directly overhead. By the way, this never ever stops being creepy.
I know all this, rationally. It's just that my brain hates me, and until it figures out a way to chip through the interior of my skull and escape*, it's amusing itself by playing a best-of-B-movie-horror slideshow everytime there's any kind of sound.
Okay, that's enough of that, brain. Gotta sleep. Major errands to run in the morning.
* It keeps grabbing for the fork when I eat. From inside my head. It is the weirdest sensation.