In these quite hours I find my solace,
as though I am privy to something the sleeping world is not.
A silence.
A peace.
A consciousness equitable to everyone else's dream,
where I process knowingly what they lose with sleep.
- it is untrue, perhaps. But I do experience
the hours that everyone else forgets.

The busy mornings mean nothing to me.
- when everyone rises the same and trudges the same
and sees the same empty light.
I hear the wind no one else knows is there.
I see the ally cats find excitement on pale streets.
I watch the new snow fall
and hear the old trains pass
and feel the dark trying to show me something.

The most serene moments of my life
have come in sharing these hours with someone dear:
- the wind in the trees under the streetlamp glare,
as we, sheltered by a porch, bundled against the autumn dark,
whisper among the pillows and blankets.
- the soft rain and growing light of a Saturday morning,
the sound of an early riser's engine through your bedroom window;
skin on skin for the first time.

I am awake when you are asleep.
The things of which you are not aware, I am.
These hours bring me closer to God.

It's a new year . . . and this house is falling apart. There are mice in the attic and they are raiding the cabinets. I can see dirt through a crack in the floor of Heather's bedroom (I wish the landlord good luck on that one). The microwave pops half a bag of popcoren and then burns it. We discovered all of these things yesterday.

sigh.

The one that will cost big bucks is the microwave. And there is little choice in the matter. How many people my age (in this country) know how to survive without a microwave?

For the mice we can use poison. We know they are in the attic because there are two cats living under the house and few mice would last long down there. And I guess we'll have to see how of much hassel the construction to repair the crack in the floor will be.

Other than returning home to discover all of this, the holidays were outstanding. Heather and I were spoiled rotten by my parents in both food and gifts. I have a job interview Monday - we'll see how that goes. I saw Return of the King twice, much to my orgasmic pleasure. Heather was finally able to relax after a hellishly busy semester (I have a feeling that another one is on the way).

Oh, and the Aardvark of Freedom is kicking butt in Kings of Chaos.

Good lord it's late. I suppose even night-owls must sleep. How is it that sleeping seems like a waste of time only when you have so much of it (time)?