The last two nights were reserved for restlessness. Fitful dreams and fitful wakefulness, and last night the rain was briefly so-- that it sounded as though the sky had been ripped open and I doubted the roof would bear it.
The night is perhaps reasserting its claim on me. Daytime has always been an embarrassment to me, a foreign climate, a posture. I have come to love the sun, but perhaps I will always be a basement dweller and night-skulk.
Bleary morning metamelodrama aside, I am dealing with interesting upcoming enormous changes, and this is probably the cause of what are really very common sleepless nights.