last night I slept for eight hours. this is always an interesting experience because it happens so infrequently. I dreamed that there was some sort of epidemic plaguing western new york that gave its victims large, painful sores all over their bodies before attacking the viscera and killing them. anyone who came in contact with a victim of the disease was quarantined because it was highly contagious and before long, they would fall ill too. I was the first in my family to get sick, with sores in my throat. although my mother somehow managed to avoid me and had set up camp at work, the rest of the family was stuck at home until they fell ill and died, too. my sister stayed in bed with the covers pulled over her head, hoping that would save her. my dad was working at his desk in the basement when geoff started showing symptoms, lying on the living room floor in a sleeping bag with a sore throat and scabs all over his face. it was especially strange because geoffrey never gets sick.


I knew that everyone in my family was going to die, one by one, and worst of all, it was my fault. I have never felt so guilty about anything. my only consolation was that I, too, would soon be dead, so I wouldn't have to live the rest of my life without them.


I've said it before, and I'll say it again - sleep is a very bad idea.


good news... as of a couple hours ago, the parental units once again have power! eight days of no heat and soup on the grill for supper. it got cold enough in the house that random climbed into geoff's bed and tucked himself in. they say it took almost an hour and a half for out-of-town construction trucks to remove the pile of debris from in front of our house - and that was after the many hours my parents and neighbours spent sawing branches and clearing out the yard.