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Dreams of ticks, magpies, and images of suicide bombers blowing themselves up, combined with me staring at the ceiling for a good long time, does not make for a good night. I actually got up at 4 am and read a book for about an hour. Went back to bed and tossed and turned some more.

Not to mention that I feel like utter shit. Maybe I've come down with something, or something I ate yesterday decided to kick my ass. I don't know. I want to sleep, but I think the cats or the bed might eat me.

On a funny note though, I fell asleep for a little bit and woke to myself talking and E going, "Shush." I only remember uttering something about a magpie, but he told me I said very loudly in his ear, "I've never seen a magpie so quiet. Where'd you get the magpie?" Wish I could remember the context of what was happening in the dream.

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November 2013

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