Fatigue has reduced me to a mere shadow. My brain is in energy-saver mode.
My housemates are awesome. There’s been little activity in the bedrooms, not merely because we all seem to be celibate at the moment. The loungeroom has been the epicentre of Jewelpunk’s crafternoons, crafterevenings and as the consumer highlight of the year approaches, beads spill over to the early hours of the morning, Then there’s the jamming. El Eco plucking at his guitar and La Dina belting out songs about murderous vegetarians. She’s vegan. I’m vego. Obviously I’m the criminal in this story.
Last night El Eco’s mum stayed over. While my housemate bunked out in the communal loungeroom, his mum snored in the bedroom, a thin wall away from where I tossed relentlessless. I tried earplugs. Toasted sandwiches at 2am seemed promising but didn’t deliver. Checking my stats at 3am caused a slight pang of anxiety. I have followers. They could be stalkers for all I know. According to google, some of the common psychiatric symptoms of sleep deprivation include disorientation, hallucinations, and paranoia. I’ll ponder this. There’s not much chance of sleeping. La Dina has just turned on the blender for her 100 banana a day diet and the kitchen is directly underneath my bedroom.