One bourbon, one scotch, and one mav

Much like the dog who’s beaten often enough they expect beating, I usually find myself dreading going to sleep these days, for fear that my neighbors will be Partying Hard and I will be unable to get any rest. Or maybe that weird waterpipe rumble will come back. Either way my sleep success rate has been so low here I pretty much expect to not be able to get to sleep.

And, like the gambler who expects the worst, I even think that writing about it might jinx me. What if one of my neighbors decides to turn on their stereo because I was writing about how quiet it is? What if as soon as my head hits the pillow the idiots above and behind us decide to watch a movie at 135db?

Needless to say, I’m really looking forward to being home. It’s not going to make my life any simpler; indeed, things are gonna get pretty weird once I get back. But at least I’ll be in my home, in my own bed. I sure am going to miss all the people from Moscow though.