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Friday, November 15, 2002 Ever since the time shifted from daylight savings to standard, I've been waking up around 4 or 5 a.m., resulting in nights of anywhere from 4-6 hours of sleep. Now, there are those who claim we can not only get by with substantially less than 8 hours worth, we can thrive on less. My body doesn't seem to agree with claims like that. And if I go for a stretch like this current one, with less than the preferred amount of snooze time night after night, it eventually begins showing up during my waking hours as bouts of irritability and crankiness, which means I begin cracking myself up on a regular basis. ‘Cause it just gets so silly. It's the equivalent of some internal portion of me stamping its little feet in frustration when things don't go just the way I want them, and we're mostly talking here about small, inconsequential, unimportant things, passing moments in which something in my little world doesn't cooperate, producing melodramatic responses which get mighty comical. Grumbling, gnashing of teeth, a heartfelt snarl. Funny, undignified stuff. And what else can one do but laugh when it starts up? It just gets so goofy. I am glad, however, that there are no videocams around the living space capturing any of these moments for the world at large to get a gander at. Meanwhile, after some brief sunlight early this a.m., the day turned gray, becoming grayer and more ominous-looking as the day wore on. I went into Montpelier after noon for a session at the gym. When I stepped outside, post-workout, a cold breeze had started up, the sky hanging low and dark, spritzing rain. On the ride back out here, as the rain began evolving into something more serious than spritz, I saw a hitchhiker standing by the side of Route 14 in East Montpelier, thumb in the air, pack on the ground by his feet. I pulled over without even thinking about it, he ran to the car, threw his pack into the back seat, climbed into the seat next to me. And within 60 seconds I discovered why I haven't picked up a hitchhiker in a long, long, long time. ‘Cause I found myself trapped in my car with a guy who jwouldn't shut up. And he not only couldn't shut up, he wasn't what you would call a sympathetic character. Kind of a grating personality, actually. So that when I let him out of the car in East Calais village, I was glad to see him go. And then afterwards I was glad I'd had the experience, ‘cause it was over quickly and in retrospect almost everything about it cracked me up. Honest to god – life: never-ending entertainment. With my return to Madrid looming and the work on the novel done with, I'm now delving into tasks that need to be taken care of before I'm out of here. Including lining up Christmas gifts for my brother's family, since I won't be on this side of the Atlantic in December. And I'm happy to say that my Christmas shopping has been completely, er, wrapped up. Pretty simple this year – gifts for my brother and his family. That's it. Simple is good. And speaking of Christmas, I had my second sighting of Christmas decorations today -- strings of lights hung on the front and back porches of a house in Montpelier, all lit up. Though now that I think about it, they might be leftover Halloween decorations. Heavy on the orange. Orange and, er, violet, I think. Not what you'd call Christmas colors, really. Bugger. Never mind. rws 6:15 PM [+]
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