375. I do not want to go to bed.

I do not want to go to bed.

I do not want to go to sleep.

I do not know why but I just cannot bring myself to go up to bed these days. I just sit downstairs and wait it out.

Wait it out. 

What is it? 

I do not know.

I guess it could be some phase in my life that I need to sit out. Professional? Personal? Geographical? Philosophical? Who knows?

So I just sit and wait. I switch all the lights off except the small desk lamp. The dimming of the lighting increases the silence of the room and suddenly I can be. I can sense the it. I can not understand the it. I cannot outline the it. I can just feel it. And it makes me feel peaceful, powerful too. I can do anything. Even as the house starts - very gradually and very slowly - to fill up again with people coming back from trips around the globe, from sporting ventures, from study ventures, from ad-ventures, with children remembering they are children, slowly realising that home is where they should be right now. Stillness and quietness and peacefulness. 

And so I sit and drink these glorious hours. The soft dull sound of the keys of my keyboard. The scratching of my pencil on paper. The gurgle of my paint brush in the water. The murmur of the fridge kicking in. Of the boiler taking over. People coming out of the local restaurants. And me, alone, waiting it out.

It is 23:37 and the hour is glorious.  A perfect set for a brand new movie script. An actress sitting at the dining table, suddenly stretching and raising, walking over to the fridge. She remembers what she heard on the radio earlier on. 'It's the fizzing, the bubbles, the fizz that suddenly makes everything good ...' Something along those lines anyway. She'd have to look it up and listen to the programme again. There's a bottle of Champagne there. She gets it out and opens it.