I am repeating myself.

I just realised that the previous entry is a word-for-word clone of an entry I wrote a good while back. Which proves that my inner life isn't half as rich as I'd like to think. But which also proves that there's a comfortable sameness to my behavior that is slightly reassuring. Yes.

Nerve-wracking couple of days, and I'm going back into the fire in a few minutes. I had major trouble sleeping last night, and I got out of bed at 3 AM to fix myself a sandwich (or two).

Adding to the aggravation, my bedroom and kitchen windows have been nailed shut, and it's as dark as a mediaeval cellar in my bedroom, which makes it very hard to wake up. Extensive work is being done to the exterior walls of my apartment building, and while that's a good thing, I wish they would hurry up. It's summer, and I like sunlight. I hate sleeping in a black and bleak cave. I do get light coming in from the other end of the apartement - the living-room - but it's not enough, dammit, I want more. Trust me; in a country where, half the year, there's barely daylight, you learn to love the light. A lot. Obsessively so.

Complain much? Nah.  ¶ 15:50