downtown living sucks.

i love living downtown, i really do.
30 seconds to uni, 45 seconds to the farmers market at the cathedral, 15 seconds, a simple walk down the stairs, to about 5 bars and 2 clubs.
that last thing can be cool some days, and totally totally mindblowingly uncool and awful other days.

like early this morning.

my poor sick body was resting in bed, asleep while the balcony door was wide open (cool air feels good in stuffy nose and all), when a drunken soul & house singer left through the backdoor of the downstairs wannabe-hip-club-for-meterosexual-freiburgers at 4:30 a.m. with the owners of hence club, screaming and singing at the top of her doubtlessly very wide range, very capable lungs, apparently alternating between making out with both owners (how one can physically make out/scream/sing almost simultaneously, i am not sure, but this woman surely could!), screaming "this will end in fucking tears, boys, this will end in tears."
no screaming back of my sick self even made it to that mad trio, that's how loud she was/they were, how out of it, sick and incapable of screaming i was/and am.

fuck em.
i've been awake ever since, watching nighttime trash tv, feeling like shit. it's a public holiday today: i could have slept in. once i am awake, i have a really hard time getting back to sleep, especially when sick, especially when dirk is not around to cuddle with. and today is going to be hot, so sleeping during the day might not offer as much relief as a nighttime snooze with cool air.

fuck em.