In the wee small hours of the morning.

My days are long. I wait for the final hour, where i can stop pretending to care and drag my feet home. There i slouch in a chair for a few hours; complaining to myself about all the things i have and haven't done, and what i should be doing.
After that, i sometimes get up and sing to myself in the kitchen, listening to the sounds of my clumsy fingers trying to grasp a glass from the bottom cupboard. If i'm in a good mood, i'll read my book; an easy escape from reality. But at the moment, i just sit. Preoccupied by something.
Next thing i know it's the evening, and the sound of disagreements and animals wanting attention fills my ears. This is where i have discovered the wonders of my bed. The sweet shelter of the white feather douve, and my soft pink pillow.
Soon, this will all be different again. We are moving house. My "new" room has an orange and blue wall. Not your typical bright horrible playschool kind of orange and blue, but a desert kind. If you get what i mean.
So i have decided my room will have a nice take of the great western desert. Which is why i am in search for one of those big paintings of the Latino woman in the great red dress. And i will only have smokey dim lighting, And some cowboy leaning up against the wall; chewing on a toothpick.

Ah, my sanctuary.
But that's about it. I doubt it will happen. For now i am not in the mood to be optimistic. I'm just going to lay in my bed and wait.
Goodnight.