just what the truth is i can't say anymore
weird noises at night wake me up.
i'm fairly used to the quirks of my house. i know the particular rattles that signal the number fourteen rushing by on gladstone, or the way a huge transport truck will make glass objets tinkle against each other if there's a red light on kent. i'm used to the noise of the doors of both the kates, the particular clicking of the latches. morgen rarely wakes me up coming in anymore because the door opening has become an expected noise. and my own bed- consisting of milk crates and a goant piece of plywood- well, it never makes any noise at all.
but last night- falling asleep, dewey and wallace and the bear mashed alongside me and tangled in the africa quilt, there was an unknown noise. everytime i shifted- squuueak, eeeeeerk, squasqua. i woke up no less then five times to this weird eeeeerrrrrt noise coming from somewhere beneath me.
it took me twenty minutes, but i finally found out that it was a cord mashed down between the wood and the wall. i have no frickin clue how it got there, [i am the queen of weird-shit-in-her-bed, but still, no idea] but man, i'm glad it's gone and i can return to the semi-silent sleep pattern of life.