E is out of town. He left yesterday for a blues music festival in Washington with his buddies. So I’m all alone, poor me.
Our schedules are quite different. He doesn’t come to bed until hours after I have. He has to turn on the bedside light to read before falling asleep. Then he snores like a chainsaw.
You’d think I’d sleep better without E there, but no. I sleep like crap. Last night I kept waking up. The only way I knew I had slept at all was I dreamt. The problem with that was I was dreaming the same thing I was thinking about when I was awake: database structures, as best my little non-technical mind can understand them.
One of the things I do when E is away is to gather up books to sell back to Powell’s. He hates that. But I always come back with more books. I didn’t make out so well this time. They didn’t take very many of my old books. The remainders will have to go to Goodwill. They will not go back on the shelf. The whole point is to open up shelf space.
I brought home a couple Alan Furst books we hadn’t read, a couple old Gene Wolfe’s and America, something no American home should be without.
Hopefully I’ll sleep better tonight.