Begin at the beginning, and go on till you come to the end: then stop.

Here it is--eleven-o-five, and I sit contemplating the meaning of quiet. A word my sweet roommates don't seem to understand. Let me clarify: no laughing, screaming, playing distressing movies, talking, sneezing, wheezing, or walking . . . don't even breathe loudly. And if you can't do that, for heaven sakes don't breathe at all. You see, a good thirty minutes ago I was sleeping soundly. I had by some miracle gotten myself in bed by nine p.m. Miracle in this context meaning, I was so exhausted from being sick this week-end that I couldn't stay awake another minute. Around ten-thirty (give or take five minutes), I rolled over in my sleep and woke up to the sounds of a typical night in apartment 110-- complete with laughing, screaming, movies, talking, walking, breathing . . . well you get the idea. Shhhh! For goodness sakes, I'm sleeping.

As I write this the seconds race to the finish line of five a.m. It's funny how when the seconds stop running, I start. And they are, therefore, always beating me in this very upside down kind of race against time. This week, my theme is begin at the beginning, go on till the end: then stop. This is going to be a week of determined focus. Unfortunately, my roommates subconsciously feel that sleep is not a component of thoughtfully determined focus. My apartment is too open (on so many levels). Often late at night when I am going to sleep, I feel as though half of the 88th ward is over for a slumber party. You know, the kind you had when you were twelve and even though you called it a slumber party no one ever slept? Well, I don't know about the 88th ward, but I stopped being twelve a long time ago, and I stopped going to slumber parties that no one slept at long before that. I think it's about time that they did too. Alright, eleven-sixteen and the seconds have now doubled lapped me. Time to try and get some zzzz's. The Monday morning starting line is fast approaching.