I have been trying to curb my habit of wandering the neighborhood in the middle of the night, because I'm not very scary and so it's just asking for trouble. I've already got plenty of trouble, so I've been forcing myself not to head for the clothes and the door when I wake up convinced that my apartment is the last place I need to be. I've been staying in bed and going back to sleep, only to wake up five or six times more, still possessed of the same need to go anywhere else.
Last night, each time I woke up, my feet were wound so tightly in my quilt that I couldn't move either one of them independently. It would appear that the conviction that I need to stay the heck put has finally sunk in.
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