For Want of Sunshine, the Day is Lost

I'm sitting in a coffee shop listening to headphones so loud as to not overhear the conversations around me. They're generally awful discussions of the sort best not heard, let alone discussed, let alone shouted at the top of one another's lungs. They're always shouted though—always. It's in the nature of the thing.

If I had any sense, I'd be home folding the laundry I washed days ago and washing the huge pile of filthy dishes in my kitchen sink. That certainly isn't going to happen. It'll be a win if I get the trash out by the curb. The night is laying it on me heavy this evening.

I loathe this time of year. It's always so dark. I don't get properly depressed like a lot of people with SAD might do; I just can't stay awake. Add to this my daily double-dose of tranquilizers for my stomach, and every winter evening becomes a struggle to hold off Hypnos for even a few minutes more. It's difficult, to say the least.

Sometimes being in a public place where others are awake and lively helps. Often it's insufferable, and I wander back to my comfy couch to await the sun, which is exactly where this night is headed.

Elysian Fields - Stop the sun