: Why twits do not sleep...
These past few weeks have been horrible, as far as my sleeping habits have been concerned.
I am normally a fan of animals, but I am quickly starting to really and truly hate *birds*- and to wish that I had a few flying cats around. At first, my fine feathered fiends woke me up at nine in the morning-which is fairly acceptable, as it is my usual waking time when I do not have classes. Soon, however, they took to chirping and shrieking at eight, then half past seven, then six, and finally, they were up and making noise before even a shred of daylight passed through the trees.
There is also the matter of my broken door. Even when closed, it likes to make creaking sounds and to slam itself shut, as if it has been left wide open. I have taken to placing an old book against the door to keep it quiet, but I often forget, as I am often exhausted.
Then, there are the panic attacks. Knowing that I will be disturbed by winged demons and loose doors causes me to wake up in a panic-and while I may set my alarm for an hour or so later, in hopes of getting back to sleep, I am always too tense to follow through with it.
In short, I am a tiny little mess at the moment. It is never a good idea to fool around with my sleeping patterns, and I am contemplating making a slingshot and filling it with popcorn kernels to shoot at my new little enemies.
These past few weeks have been horrible, as far as my sleeping habits have been concerned.
I am normally a fan of animals, but I am quickly starting to really and truly hate *birds*- and to wish that I had a few flying cats around. At first, my fine feathered fiends woke me up at nine in the morning-which is fairly acceptable, as it is my usual waking time when I do not have classes. Soon, however, they took to chirping and shrieking at eight, then half past seven, then six, and finally, they were up and making noise before even a shred of daylight passed through the trees.
There is also the matter of my broken door. Even when closed, it likes to make creaking sounds and to slam itself shut, as if it has been left wide open. I have taken to placing an old book against the door to keep it quiet, but I often forget, as I am often exhausted.
Then, there are the panic attacks. Knowing that I will be disturbed by winged demons and loose doors causes me to wake up in a panic-and while I may set my alarm for an hour or so later, in hopes of getting back to sleep, I am always too tense to follow through with it.
In short, I am a tiny little mess at the moment. It is never a good idea to fool around with my sleeping patterns, and I am contemplating making a slingshot and filling it with popcorn kernels to shoot at my new little enemies.