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Posts Tagged ‘to sleep or not to sleep’

Well, we are in a tiny, adorable attic room in East Dulwich the view of which looks out over south London rooftops and reminds us of a scene from Mary Poppins. I found a small crawl space just outside the room at the landing, which I will be using to get as many boxes as possible out of the room. Some are ok, but he is happy to leave them all piled up on one wall of the room whereas I would like to use the bedside table and not have another sitting out in the middle of the open space we do have. That will happen tomorrow, today we could barely get out of the house in order to mail paperwork he desperately needed to get out. I had trouble sleeping, worries and our flatmate’s television keeping me up. Then it seemed every time I turned over the boyfriend had a knee or an elbow poking me in the back or the side and was sleeping on 2/3 of the bed. We’re all stressed and tetchy but we’re out of the apartment and happier for it. Tonight is the drinks night for Southeast London but I don’t think we should go to it. We spent a ridiculous £50 on Sunday and whenever you go out in London, probably all of England, people buy rounds. Suddenly there’s a pint in front of you and you’ll owe that person somewhere down the line. We seem to owe half the LFGSS forum drinks at this point and it’s getting to be a pain. It also means I drink more than I want to. The boyfriend had to get up at 6:30 a.m. yesterday, ride 40 miles for day work with Rollapalooza and then help move, so was out like a light by 10 p.m. We didn’t get up until 9 a.m. this morning. I wish I’d slept longer. I wish it wasn’t gray and drizzly. I like the mattress in here. I have to go have dinner now.

New True Blood and Weeds to watch tonight.

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A friend I met here, D, and I went to Lisbon this weekend. It was three days/four nights of happy exuberance. We cracked ourselves up, laughing so hard we cried, saw various, wonderful things, ate wonderful food, spoke in Espantugese and played “spot the drug dealer” on Rua do Sao Augusto. It’s not hard. They’re in their 50s or older, shifty, wear sports coats and make eye contact and beelines at the tourists. No, thank you.

More later, when I’ve downloaded pictures and reconstructed events.

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I’d heard Madrid was a really late-night city but I hadn’t had too much personal experience with the late hours here until last night. The restaurant across the street is gonna seriously suck come summer, if I’m still here. Various groups of people left its interior and hung around its environs, talking very loudly, from 2:30 a.m. to 5 a.m. when I finally managed to pass out. My sleeplessness couldn’t be completely put down to them, though, The boyfriend gets here today and I’m super excited to see him. I think that was the main problem last night. At least I had bought a book the other day so I could while away the time with that. I’d needed something to read and books are expensive here, so I went for the biggest one I could find, regardless of whether I’ve read it before or not. I haven’t read it in years, so the details are all new to me.

I finally woke up around 10:45 a.m. and turned on the computer to see that the boyfriend’s flight has been delayed, then delayed again and he won’t even leave London until 12:30 p.m. Thank god it’s a super short flight, only about 2 1/2 hours. At least I have time to further neaten the apartment now. On that note, I had another stick of butter but I can’t seem to find it. Where does butter go when your roommate barely eats at home? Oh, there it is, in the butter/cheese drawer. Silly American, putting the butter where it’s supposed to go.

The problem with the boyfriend getting here so late, aside from the poor guy having to figure out how to fritter away 3 hours in the airport, is that we were to go pick up a much smaller desk from a guy. We need this because the room I’m in is so small that fitting two twin sized beds in it is going to be a bit like playing Tetris with the giant desk that’s currently taking up about 1/3 of the space. Back to the drawing board? Maybe I can move it myself. Ha, that’s a joke. Unless I can take it apart without materially weakening it. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Problem solving is a specialty of mine.

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1) Sometime after 1:45 a.m. I am awakened by someone yelling at their child that when they call them they should listen. Other voices ensue.

2) Sometime after that I am awakened by people talking loudly, possibly singing. I go out onto the balcony to complain at them.

3) At 7:45 a.m. the beer delivery guy for the restaurant across the street starts slamming doors and dragging crates of beer across the steel floor of his steel delivery truck. Steely noises ensue. I am incensed beyond insensate.

This is the second time this week my sleep has been disturbed by jerks and their loud-ass Castellano voices. My Spanish roommate has urged me to throw buckets of wash water on any idiot rude enough to speak at full volume during the wee hours of the night. We are on the fourth floor. It sounds as if we are on the first. I cannot imagine living on the first. I am gleeful at the thought of the next jerk who interrupts my sleep at an unreasonable hour (occasionally I take 6 hour walks and drop dead asleep by 9 p.m. I cannot in good conscience complain if it is before midnight on a weekend when I don’t have work).

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I had begun composing a thoughtful, well-written post in my head as I tried to go to sleep again after being awakened by revelers at 4 a.m. but I seem to have lost the gist of it.

So instead I’ll tell you GAAHHH!! Yellow mustard has too much vinegar in it here!!

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