My sleep is punctured. That IS what I mean.
Tonight I needed double glazing, and I have down town drone laced with fire truck and police whistle, with the bumble bee bustle of motorbikes that only a city at night can give you.
Outside the door I have “Eeeooooeeeeooooeeeeoooo, hahahaa! Yes! Eeeoooooeeee? oooooeeeeoooo, yes! hahahaa!” We also have the good fortune to have a room that sounds like it’s located next to maybe the pump room and above me the occupant can’t sleep either. How do I know? He is walking the floor. Back and forwards. Walk walk walk. Please sit down.
I don’t mean to be complaining but my head is hurting and you have been walking for too long. My tolerance level must rise. I tell myself it’s because I’m sick.
It’s almost midnight. We went to bed early and tried to sleep but before long Gilbert whispered “Are you hungry?”
So I made hot water in the coffee maker and poured coffee tasting tea. I wasn’t hungry. 10 pascal airplanes later from the party pack we bought at the airport, we had sugar overload.
“You realise we just did the worst thing possible?” I said to Gilbert
“Yes, he replied, tomorrow we should get biscuits to have for times like this”