Brain Blood Volume
Columbia is undertaking some sort of rehab work on our building in order to bring the cornices up to code. This apparently involves an hour at a time of someone drilling or sanding or something on the wall above our bed, followed by another hour of someone scraping with a small hand instrument at whatever is left after the drilling/sanding, and then back to MORE drilling/sanding. This starts at 8 am and wakes me up with the distinct perception that the wall is about an inch thick and the drill is going to come swirling through it into my skull. Now, obviously I would like to avoid an involuntary trepanning, but I was stubborn and refused to get up, despite a full three hours of drill/sand/scrape/rinse/repeat. It was not particularly restful, however, and when Segev came home for lunch I stumbled out into the kitchen mumbling incoherently about drills and scrapers. Segev looked at me in horror and said, "You look TERRIBLE." Which is totally what you want to hear after someone has been drilling directly behind your head for three hours. It's been a long day already.