Clouds and Ceilings

Sounds like my upstairs neighbour is sharpening pencils the size of submarine sandwiches. Actually I think it's workmen remodelling the room and my upstairs neighbour has moved out. At least they've left off hammering and drilling at 9am, though I got up at 9:30 to-day anyway after going to bed at 3:30am. I feel like wherever I go in life there'll be someone pounding a hammer into board while I'm trying to sleep.

But I'm tired of having to sleep. I like staying up late and I like getting up early. I like to think if I burn the candle far enough at both ends I'll create dark matter. I haven't left the apartment since Tuesday, I've been reading all day and I still didn't get all the reading done this week I wanted to. Which means I'll probably start my comic a week later than intended. Gods, I hope nothing else occurs to me that I must absolutely read. To-day I must finally venture out to replenish my oatmeal supply. I also need fruit. I'll probably have to go again to-morrow to get the stuff I forget to get to-day. I ought to make a list, I suppose.

I suppose it doesn't help that, among other things, I'm reading about seventeenth century English scholastic standards. We have really fallen behind. I don't know any Greek or Latin. Well, I guess that's not true, I know "Spanakopita" (it's a spinach pie).

Anyway, here are some pictures from the time when I went out.

Twitter Sonnet #754

Eyebrow sweater siphons exfoliate.
Damaged dockets handle delinquent fish.
More scales managed oarsmen extrapolate.
Every Chevrolet cheese is a bad dish.
Aptly applied apple sauce crushed all phones.
Tricorder readings order radios.
Bumpy bucolic ear hills instruct bones.
High roller mead halls borrow rodeos.
Spinal cord anchor tattoos employ space.
Liar limestone commandments'll buy Mars.
Yodel fines incur ultimate sleeve ace.
Fonder famines mineralise the cars.
Tamale alibis indict the corn.
A beige beluga is quietly born.