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Thursday, November 30, 2000

In my semi-never-ending quest for some kind of balance in my life, I've moved on to a higher plane. Specifically, I made up the bed in the loft. I'm going to try sleeping up there tonight, just to see if the comfort and warmth that I feel whenever I lounge around with a book will translate to a better night's sleep.

bed in the loft

If not, I'll move back downstairs, to my real bed. The one that's twice the size of this one. And has an electric blanket. And offers a lot more headspace. And is within a few steps of the bathroom (with no stairs between).

Yeah, well, it couldn't hurt. I've been falling asleep in the lounge chair every night anyway, then dragging myself downstairs to bed some time around two o'clock. I don't know if the shorter trip will make the difference, but I'm trying out ways of getting more and better sleep.

This is definitely a wintertime-only solution. It's too hot to breathe in the loft in the summertime, and I haven't even lived here during the hottest part of summer yet.

I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't mess with the relative success I've been having lately, sleeping half the night in the lounge chair upstairs and finishing up in my bed. These have been the most restful nights I've spent since I moved here. All I'm trying to do is make things even better.

With all its faults, this house is where I want to stay. It's drafty on these wintry days and nights. The electricity is chancy, and the plumbing is undependable. In dry weather the weeds all around are a fire hazard. When it rains, I'm on an island surrounded by mud.

But I have room to spread out, inside and out. I have a yard that has a lot of possibilities. Best of all, I never, ever have to worry if my stereo or TV is too loud. I don't have to be on guard against bothering the neighbors, and I don't have to listen to anyone else's excessive lifestyle. I can't even express how much this means to me, after what I went through in the four months I lived next door to the Noisy family.

The landlords could double my rent, and I'd find a way to pay it, just to be able to stay here. I'd even give up Kozy Shack tapioca and Starbucks dulce de leche ice cream (which probably wouldn't be a bad idea anyway). (Besides, I can make my own pudding. I've done it, and although it wasn't as good as the stuff you buy in the tub, it was okay. Way too much work for what I got out of it, but better than nothing.)

Yes, I'm lucky. Sometimes I forget, but it doesn't take long for me to feel guilty about whining, when I remember how much better I have it than so many people do. I don't expect anything to be perfect, even if it sometimes seems that way.

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