As I lie in wait for sleep, KING FM tells me: you are not our target demographic.
It does so with an advertisement for a play pregnant with married humor.
As I seek sleep, I realize classical radio blocks out my neighbors as well as my chances of sleep.
It’s there so my house mates’ private activities may remain private: a weirdo like me does not need to hear private things, I can’t tune them out.
So I sit up and write this down, flashlight chained to pen clipped to notepad – at the ready.
I’m making yoghurt, and this may prove more fatal still to a night of rest, stillborn.
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