running on running on running on empty

This weekend was spent in a haze of perpetual exhaustion. It first hit me during the party I attended on Friday night. The rooms were filled with good people and good conversations. I did my level best to keep up and get involved here and there, but more than once I sought the refuge of a couch, and just closed my eyes for a moment. Some interesting conversations were had...
The lethargy continued well into Saturday. I play tested another army list, gathered some more data (as well as a crushing defeat, but anything is acceptable in the name of science!), then came home to my roommate's beer testing. I chatted a bit again, had some non-beery drinks, but finally succumbed to my bed for a much needed nap.
I got a quick pick me up when I returned and hung out with the straggles of the beer tasting, then off to bed again.
Nothing of interest happened Sunday until I showed up for the DND game. Much of my time was spent paralyzed, and then unconscious (at the hands of a party member). Treachery! Top out the evening with a full night of good music (thanks to Project Sphere, Scissorkiss, and Mindless Faith) and at last I'm home again. But not to sleep.
Oh no. That would be too easy...

Madness?

Every night and morning, it is the same. A female voice, hoarse, older. Croaking and babbling to an unknown audience. Perhaps a person living with her? Perhaps just shouted to the night sky. She rambles on about a wide variety of subjects. Last night it was the MFA and funding artists. The voice rises and tapes off, it flows slowly from her tongue, like the words are unfamiliar. Then she will crescendo and spit them out with great clarity and force. Then there will be silence. But only for a little while.

Several times I lay in bed, a hot retort just begging to leap from my lips. Something short, vulgar, and suggestive. I never speak. I close one window instead, which mutes her voice slightly. Only when she crescendos is it really jarring. And what good will shouting at her do really? If she isn't insane, she's drunk. If she isn't drunk, she obviously doesn't care how loud she is speaking, as I doubt she has an audience. Outside of myself, of course.

I try instead to follow her narrative, wondering what story will fall from her lips next. There is certainly no telling what will happen, not even from one sentence to another. One thing I do distinctly remember her saying more that once. "I am totally, totally, totally alone."

I lie back in the darkness, and try to sleep.

Respect my authoritah!

Seriously, you guys.