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Sleeping pills please
2002-08-20 | 4.40a.m.

Ugh. I've been awake since two. I thought it must be at least 9.00 am! Apart from the pitch blackness of course. And then I felt like going downstairs for some breakfast (or whatever the meal you eat at this time of the day is called) but was subsequently freaked out by arguing-cats-that-sound-like-crying-babies and a vehicular noise that resembles a vacuum cleaner.

I think they call this the witching hour.

I know that insects are attracted to the light so before I went to sleep I pushed the door to. "TO fucking what?" you ask. THE FUCKING HINGE, is what.

So after this nearly closing the door fiasco I hear a fuzzing-whirring-insecty noise and decide to completely shut my door. But no! A moth manages to pop through underneath the door anyway.

It sits there, so I chuck the Weekend magazine at it (the one that comes free with the Saturday Daily Mail), to stop it from divebombing at me. Then stupidly I realise I need a glass of water but can't leave my room because there's a moth patrolling the bleeding door.

So I went thirsty.

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