Jan 16 2004
Noisy
Spending so much time in the country over the past few months has pretty much cured my fear of the dark. I’m still not its biggest fan, and I would still hesitate before walking into an abandoned house or a cemetery in the middle of the night, but I find I can’t sleep now if there’s too much light in a room.
All this country time seems to have made me more sensitive to noise, too, and I wake up more easily than ever.
Last night, I found myself an unwilling audience member at Snoreapalooza 2004. The featured act would not cease and desist no matter what methods I used to disencourage it, so I flounced out to the living room to sleep on the couch.
Once the flounce had worn off, I discovered that the majestic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall was driving me crazy (not to mention the hourly chiming), so I couldn’t sleep there, either. I returned to bed, frustrated and cranky and unfit for sleep for several hours.
Early on the following morning, I was still enjoying my hard-won sleep when I was rudely awakened by Cleo playing with her mouse. When Cleo plays with her mouse, she feels the need to swear at it so loudly that you can hear it for miles. It’s one of the well-known San Francisco sounds, like fog horns and cable car bells.
In my semi-conscious state, I yelled at her to stop, still hopeful that I could go back to sleep. But no. She was as persistent as Snoreapalooza, so I finally gave up on the whole thing and got up. Whereupon she dropped the mouse and became as quiet as one.
Adrian may be right. Cats can be evil.