I'm a morning shower (and sometimes nighttime too) person, but with two little kids to take care of, I usually don't get the chance until they're both in bed. Since little one has given up her nap, that means sometime after 7pm.

Last night, linebacker baby was catnapping (finally) around ten, so I snuck off to get my shower before he woke again.

I have some seriously rude upstairs neighbors, and they were being loud as per usual when I stepped into the shower. They must rearrange furniture every other night or so - at least, that's what it sounds like. They drop things heavy enough to make the light fixtures rattle, and they routinely party up there until four in the morning or so - and it might be on a Tuesday night.

I wasn't too surprised (though I wasn't amused either) by their loud behavior last night, but as I was finishing my shower, I heard some banging so loud that I briefly wondered if it was in MY apartment - my quiet, kids-and-me apartment with the deadbolted door. I turned the water off and stood there dripping as I listened - just in time to hear a man emit two very distressed-sounding grunt-moan-shrieks (hard to describe, but they were not of that sort). I think maybe he fell, but I'll admit that it spooked me. I briefly considered calling 911, and then I heard other footsteps overhead. He didn't cry out again, and I figure whoever was there was friendly, so I finished drying off and went to comfort linebacker baby, who was awakened by the ruckus above us.

It may be that that incident colored my mood; I'm not sure. After linebacker baby went down again, I found myself with an almost oppressive feeling of what I'll sum up as loneliness. It wasn't so much that as it was that my mood lent itself to wanting conversation. I checked my buddy list: everyone was sleeping or otherwise occupied (understandably). I thought about the numbers in my cell phone (you know it's bad when Infernal wants to call somebody!) and realized that the people on PST wouldn't be in bed, but were probably doing post-supper family stuff. Bff was in crisis mode, as per usual, and bmf was already asleep since he has to be at work at around 4am.

I didn't even really want to talk about anything in particular (yes, I know that's kinda silly) - I'd have been content to listen to a recounting of someone else's day. I just wanted to hear the warmth of a friendly voice. Gaming grew dull, though I reached some new territory with my favorite ele. By 3:30am (DH wasn't home until 4:15 last night) it was pretty bad. I still couldn't sleep (not that that's a new development :-D) so I buried my nose in a familiar book for a while. He wasn't happy that I was still awake, but how do you explain that feeling without causing guilt? I gave some noncommittal reply that was neither lie nor truth, and that was that.

It wouldn't even rate a mention today, but I'm still trying to shake that feeling (it's lessened considerably at least!).

Little one just lobbed an orange crayon at my head. Li'l stinker's a good shot! :-D On a positive note, I love brand-new crayons. They're so full of promise, and there's just something magnificent about a tangible stick of color. (I love richly dyed solid-colored fabrics for similar reasons, although those don't - hopefully! - spread their colors as crayons do.)

You know, I think I could write a semi-interesting post on crayons and people. I might do that sometime. :)