Creature comforts are starting to escape me.
I went over to a friend’s place after work on Thursday, and with enough good food and surprisingly good cheap Moldovan wine, was thoroughly convinced I was not up for an hour’s bike ride home just to turn around and come back for work the next morning.
Hopping couches for so many years has made me incredibly lazy at night, especially if I’ve been drinking.
A sensible person might have been thrilled at the chance of something a bit more modern for a night. I fell asleep in far less clothing than usual, knowing there was functional plumbing just outside my door.
… Sheesh, I’ve been trying to finish this post all day. The deep and embracing underground party scene in this city has been absorbing me all day, as well as band practice and the ensuing fun. Long story short:
As I was saying…
I woke up at my friend’s place at 3am completely awake and unreasonably irritated. I stayed angry at nothing in particular for a whole hour. No specific target, just angry at being awake, and too angry at being awake to fall back asleep. The fact of the matter was that I was comfortable. I was bored with how comfortable I was and this annoyed me. There was no movement, there was no cold, no fear of the unknown. Just comfort. Ridiculous, purely ridiculous anger. Privileged ruggedness. Silly but lovely in its sincerity.