My brother, mother and I have been up here since late Tuesday night. Dweeb-my-brother has been helping Unk work. There has just been some sort of a kerfuffle upstairs; I hope my brother hasn't cut off a finger... (He just came down for a tool. Apparently he smashed his head when he stood up on the scaffolding. Mum made me walk around the house on those today...what a sturdy, safe and stable walk...)
Sleep isn't really happening since the whole house basically feels like one giant room sound-wise (and from some rooms one can see out through the roof so that it starts feeling like Where the Wild Things Are) and post-graduation blues/anxiety have got me pretty unable to sleep until late at night. Well, that and the Being Nocturnal point, but I think at this point I'm exhausted enough that I could sleep before midnight (gasp) if my brain would shut up.
So today I managed to fall asleep on the sofa (despite the hammering and loud-saw-machine noises), which was glorious. Until I feel this vibration in my pocket and a phone saying, "Call from [some indeterminate name]". I took it from my pocket and peered at the name--"Dweeb"--and am sleepy enough to bring it to my ear despite that I can see he is in the room with me.
"Oh," he says, into the phone and into the room--thus the whole house--"you're right here. I didn't see you there." [The sofa, for the record, is incredibly visible between the stairs and anywhere else on the ground floor, especially in broad daylight.]
I, being sleepy and cranky and not at all annoyed with my sibling dearest, managed a response of utmost eloquence and compassion: "You fuckup."
I went back to sleep. Not long later, my uncle comes downstairs much as my brother had ('bang bang bang, stairs, I will pulverise you with my feet') and heads to the kitchen. Soon after he yells out, "KIWI?"
I roll over and groan. "Yes?"
"Oh! You're in here! I didn't see you there!" ("Oh I'm here alright.")
My brother turns to me. "We can't see you on that sofa." (Oh really? How had I gathered that already?)
"I, what, camoflauge?"
I gave him the Sideways Eye. "The sofa is red. I am not wearing anything remotely red." He laughed. I gave up on sleep and got up to join the conversation. (By 'join' I mean 'eat crips and gaze off through the ceiling to the trees, for carpentry and building constitutes a whole language of which I have no comprehension'.)
Conversation around here is made up of roofs and cats. Cats, mind, I have no problem with--I am a great fan of cats, actually. I just prefer to treat them as small, furry humans (much like myself) and thus talk about and to them with regular conversational tones. I do have a problem, however, when the topic or presence of a cat immediately inspires use of the *dreaded* baby voice. (I also refuse to use the 'baby voice' around the Small Human Mammals themselves.) It grates. Oh, it grates.
Thankfully I have fic to read and writing to avoid, so despite being cranky I am still reasonably content. That may also be for the fact that I did, however interrupted, get a nap of some length.
I'm not quite sure when I stopped being a productive person... Oh well, time for more silly Facebook games that I swore I would never touch!
A return soon to scheduled (less cranky) programming.
ETA: Oi! Why do I so frequently forget that many women go through monthly cycles?