I did it; I gave big checks to the rental agency for the third-floor cozy garret apartment. I kind of like how funky it is, actually, and if I end up hating it I can get out of the month-to-month lease very easily. I went back for a third visit today and I measures the smallest door width: 29 inches. I think I can probably fit most things up the stairs. Other new info about the place: coin-op laundry in the basement, and storage room available in the basement, so I can put my giant boxes for my TV and monitor down there.

I slept poorly again last night. Here's the bad insomnia-schedule I fall into: Go home from work. Take a nap (1.5 hours, usually). Eat dinner. Watch TV. Stay up to watch the Daily Show at 11:30. Watch a little more TV because by this time I'm lying on the couch with my entropy-inducing dog. Go to bed finally, around midnight, and my mind starts buzzing, thinking about all of the paralyzing details I need to think about, the details I've been blocking out with good ol' television all evening. Toss and turn in bed, often with eyes open and my teeth tapping out songs (a weird habit I have) wondering if I should keep my mom's little desk from college or sell it, if I should get a plot at the community gardens this year or will it be too much of a hassle, if I should bite the bullet and buy the neighbors a new lawn mower to replace the one I accidentally totalled. Finally I either take a sleeping pill or fall asleep naturally an hour or two later.

I think tonight, instead of non-stop TV, I'm going to make some lists. A fun one will be Things to Find at Tag Sales (includes: microwave oven; record player; futon couch or short sofa, small butcher-block kitchen counter thing). This Saturday should be nice and ripe for the Tag Saling.

p.s. My SARS seems to be better, despite the lack of sleep. Whew.