Yeah, I know my plan was to go to bed early tonight. But I went out where I wouldn't be distracted by internets or video games or kitties and I finished reading the rest of that HST book so I could move on to Hell's Angels... I came home. Didn't want to lay down, as usual. At least this time I am cleaning. Moving things from one box to the next to see if there's anything that could be useful and/or neccessary in the next three+ months.

This, however, is not the point.

The point is that I came in here to do.. something, I forget what now, and I started hearing chimes. Now I am a paranoid person when my doorbell rings unexpectedly in the first place, but it's ten to six in the morning. I paused, looked for a place to a hide, started to turn down the music and I realise...

it's not the doorbell. It's the wall clock with the dormant cuckoo. That's the first time I've heard it since I've been living here. wtf, mate? It scared the holy hell out of me.

Shit... three months. Shit again. And fuck, as well.

Oh well, no more time to dillydally, on to the living room!