In the false hope of saving money, we haven't turned on our heat yet.
So when a nightmare wakes me at 2:30 in the morning, I'm not drenched in sweat, but shivering instead. I put on my pajama pants and pull my duvet and afghan around me tighter. I knew I would have a bad dream tonight--Natty is staying at a friend's house, and our own apartment is empty, dark, cold and still.
I had been dreaming that I was playing Scrabulous, and each tile placement was marred with the necessity to weigh the ethical consequences. Would Kant approve if I place this Q beside the I, even though it's not even on a double-letter score? How would teologists feel about only playing the word UH in an effort to dispose of a U? Would this achieve the greatest happiness for everyone involved? How do we measure this happiness? And how is this going to help me beat my prof?
I tossed and turned and sat straight up in bed, groping the the dark for my beside light switch. This is the punishment I get for spending the evening playing Scrabulous when I should have been writing a media ethics paper. (Well, that and the letter grade I'll inevitably recieve.)
I need to develop other interests. I'm even boring myself, now.
Jess thats one messed up nightmare. But it'll be ok, Natty will be back soon and things will be good. NExt time you think your going to have a nightmare, read something that is happy. That might help you dream something happy.ReplyDelete
Even though my rent is far too high, I'm so glad that utilities are inclusive. Space heaters for all!ReplyDelete
You need to turn on the heat!ReplyDelete
It's so hot in our apartment that we've turned our heat all the way off and sleep with our balcony door open. Nevermind the living room balcony door being wide open and the window in the spare bedroom. If I could package heat and send it to you, I would. :)ReplyDelete
Immanuel Kant was a real pissantReplyDelete
Who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.
David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Freidrich Hegel,
And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.
There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya'
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed!
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
Plato, they say, could stick it all the way;
Half a crate of whiskey every day.
Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
Hobbes was fond of his dram,
And Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
"I drink, therefore I am"
Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed;
A lovely little thinker but a bugger when he's pissed!