I sometimes do not like going to sleep at night, especially when I'm alone. It's 1:30 a.m., I've been exhausted all day, didn't sleep well enough last night. I've visited Sarah on Vox and caught up with her life. She's friends with the Chicago friends I lost touch with, though I didn't mean to, but it was fun watching them dance. I've read the WeLL. I've read David Hornik's Vox page when I found him: we ended up next to each other on a flight from Chicago to Hartford in September, of all things. I checked Birke's Facebook page.
There are squirrels in the attic, running back and forth. I sleep with earplugs.
So I'm not going to sleep yet, but will soon. I have no energy. And yet.
There is something else, though. Today I learned to hit a golf ball. I feel like this should be a post all its own. I've never hit a golf ball before, not once. The one time I tried (Full Moon Golf, Golden Gate Park, drunk with Gary and his friends, 1999), I missed. But today, my mom, Chuck (stepdad) and I headed to the Long Lake driving range, got a bucket of balls and two spots on the upper level. Chuck arranged my hands so that I could hit with more force and I whacked balls. Might have to try doing that on a course. I might be able to see the appeal.
darlin' – i don't want to scare you, but when i lived in new england and thought we had squirrels in the attic and finally called someone to deal with them we found out they were rats. lots and lots of loud horrible rats. we truly wanted to believe they were squirrels, but they were not. you might look into that.
The good news is, I'm leaving tomorrow… these are in Minneapolis in my parents attic. I'm pretty certain they're squirrels because they make squirrel noises and run like squirrels. But eeeesh. I think I'll be glad to get back to my apartment.
When I lived in Redwood City we had raccoons (here's one of them) in the walls. Now there was a racket.