About six years ago I used to do some occasional house and dog-sitting for my boss (she's now an official VP, and the highest person in the office). I loved to stay there, alone in her huge, stylish, comfortable house with her two big dogs (a hound mix and a greyhound), a nice tank of fish, and an ancient cat named Olive. Her husband had an incredible collection of CDs, mostly jazz. One night I discovered that they had a CD-player/clock radio in their bedroom, so I set it without even checking the CD that was in it, and went to sleep on their futon on the floor. In the morning Django Reinhardt started playing, plucking away at his guitar, dragging me out of a deep cold-weather sleep.

I bought a mini-stereo on Sunday, and after I set it up, I discovered happily that it could be used as an alarm clock. I plunked in my Django CD, identical to the one I first heard at my boss's house, and woke up this morning to the same song in my little, not-very-stylish, semi-comfortable apartment with my dog who had snuck up on the bed during the night. I felt satisfied, in a way. And then I felt lonely.

It doesn't help that I haven't been sleeping well. I even tried some super-Sleepytime Tea with Valerian and I didn't feel it a damn bit. Also, the Daily Show has begun a third week of reruns. I'm not sure what's going on.