Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Squeaks and Insomnia
12:00
Always, the nights that I need to get some good sleep, I hear it, but I only hear it when I am actually under my blankets. A constant squeak that happens every thirty seconds, and it has to be something metallic and swinging. This is all I know about this alien noise, other than I can’t sleep when I hear it. Listening to the noise, I put together every image of what it can be in my mind. Swinging and metallic… It could be some sort of hanging sign. Or we do have a park across the street. If I can hear a squeaky swing 50 feet away, I’m probably half rabbit. Whatever it is, I can’t sleep, and I’ve been trying to sleep for much too long now. So I’m going to solve it.
12:30
Undeniably, I must look like a mental patient. My pajama bottoms are extremely thin, and I have a jacket on but no shirt. Also, I am wearing an ushanka and some moccasins that have been spray painted green. If that is not the poster image for mental illness, I have no clue what is. The biggest issue is getting out of the door, I have opened the door several times and can’t seem to make myself actually exit my apartment and immerse myself in the frigid, night air. I just open the door, stand in the doorway for a few moments, close the door, and then shiver with my hands out in front clasping a can of WD-40. So I decide it would be better to go back to bed and just hope that I can fall asleep.
1:15
I’m back up. This time I have managed to wrangle on a shirt along with the aforementioned greasing uniform. I tried my hardest to just fall asleep, but that squeak would appear in my dreams and wake me up, which then would lead me to bitter anger (which is not conducive to sleeping either). This time I am going to actually grease whatever it is that is causing my angst, and nothing is going to stop me.
1:35
Returning from outside, my brain feels like it may have frozen. My processing abilities are definitely impaired, and I am not certain that I have actually solved the squeaking. But I believe that I have exhausted myself so much that when I lay down, I will most definitely fall into a coma of some sort. I went 100 feet in each direction of my apartment and have greased: three sets of swings, five swinging signs, a screen door, several mailboxes, and a jettisoned fan that was near the dumpster. My entire can of grease is empty, which should attest to how frantic I was while greasing the world, but I feel like I can sleep in peace now.
1:45
I’m already back in the uniform, and I was wrong about being so tired that I would fall into a coma. The squeak still exists and I’m at the point now that I am about to kill somebody if I can’t fix the squeak. This time, I don’t have any more grease, so the plan is for me to kick the squeak out of whatever I find that makes noise.
1:50
If my toes aren’t broken, it will be a miracle. I wandered right outside my apartment and listened for the squeak. I wandered about like a deaf person until I came across a meter of some sort (but I can’t seem to identify what type of meter it is [but that isn’t much of a surprise]). I started out gently by just grabbing the meter to see if it would stop. No dice. I rubbed some snow on all the joints. No dice. At this point, I was desperate, so I shook the meter like a baby, hoping that it would develop brain damage and shut up. No dice. It was definitely a resilient meter, so I kicked it. I kicked it over and over again until it finally gave up the ghost. Finally, silence. It could have been cold induced madness, but for a moment… euphoria.
Always, the nights that I need to get some good sleep, I hear it, but I only hear it when I am actually under my blankets. A constant squeak that happens every thirty seconds, and it has to be something metallic and swinging. This is all I know about this alien noise, other than I can’t sleep when I hear it. Listening to the noise, I put together every image of what it can be in my mind. Swinging and metallic… It could be some sort of hanging sign. Or we do have a park across the street. If I can hear a squeaky swing 50 feet away, I’m probably half rabbit. Whatever it is, I can’t sleep, and I’ve been trying to sleep for much too long now. So I’m going to solve it.
12:30
Undeniably, I must look like a mental patient. My pajama bottoms are extremely thin, and I have a jacket on but no shirt. Also, I am wearing an ushanka and some moccasins that have been spray painted green. If that is not the poster image for mental illness, I have no clue what is. The biggest issue is getting out of the door, I have opened the door several times and can’t seem to make myself actually exit my apartment and immerse myself in the frigid, night air. I just open the door, stand in the doorway for a few moments, close the door, and then shiver with my hands out in front clasping a can of WD-40. So I decide it would be better to go back to bed and just hope that I can fall asleep.
1:15
I’m back up. This time I have managed to wrangle on a shirt along with the aforementioned greasing uniform. I tried my hardest to just fall asleep, but that squeak would appear in my dreams and wake me up, which then would lead me to bitter anger (which is not conducive to sleeping either). This time I am going to actually grease whatever it is that is causing my angst, and nothing is going to stop me.
1:35
Returning from outside, my brain feels like it may have frozen. My processing abilities are definitely impaired, and I am not certain that I have actually solved the squeaking. But I believe that I have exhausted myself so much that when I lay down, I will most definitely fall into a coma of some sort. I went 100 feet in each direction of my apartment and have greased: three sets of swings, five swinging signs, a screen door, several mailboxes, and a jettisoned fan that was near the dumpster. My entire can of grease is empty, which should attest to how frantic I was while greasing the world, but I feel like I can sleep in peace now.
1:45
I’m already back in the uniform, and I was wrong about being so tired that I would fall into a coma. The squeak still exists and I’m at the point now that I am about to kill somebody if I can’t fix the squeak. This time, I don’t have any more grease, so the plan is for me to kick the squeak out of whatever I find that makes noise.
1:50
If my toes aren’t broken, it will be a miracle. I wandered right outside my apartment and listened for the squeak. I wandered about like a deaf person until I came across a meter of some sort (but I can’t seem to identify what type of meter it is [but that isn’t much of a surprise]). I started out gently by just grabbing the meter to see if it would stop. No dice. I rubbed some snow on all the joints. No dice. At this point, I was desperate, so I shook the meter like a baby, hoping that it would develop brain damage and shut up. No dice. It was definitely a resilient meter, so I kicked it. I kicked it over and over again until it finally gave up the ghost. Finally, silence. It could have been cold induced madness, but for a moment… euphoria.