The kind of night when I’m glad I keep various sorts of tea that I am not personally partial toward, as well as a kettle that takes its time coming to boil. A lamp I do not need is less sharp in its illumination. Books on the shelves provide a mild enough distraction in the haze of semi-light. Speakers that are never quiet let out the sharp then flat intonation of so-called classical music. A much-maligned harpsichord to fill the pauses between topics. The occasional blow of the heater to provide background rumble and unnecessary warmth.

Always losing sleep for some damned reason or another.