I am downstairs watching television by myself or, at least, I was. That was before the storm came. It’s the kind of heavy weather that weighs down my eyelids like stones wrapped around my ankles in a body of deep, warm water. This nefarious cyclone continues to persist in a haunting symphony that soothes my senses and yet, I couldn’t possibly bear to sleep through it. As my fingertips senselessly peruse the keys of my computer, the subversive rain continues to make my mind wander and with that, my eyes. My sleepy gaze drags itself down to the delicate watch on my bony wrist. It’s half past ten. I’m thinking back to four days ago when I promised myself I’d start going to sleep earlier, for my health and for my sanity. It’s probably best I recant that resolution before I disappoint myself further. Now, a heavy cloud of grief hangs above my head as my anxiousness begins to wax with every passing minute. I was supposed to be asleep at least an hour and a half ago. It seems that my procrastination does not  limit itself to slowing the progress of my work. While the grey matter in my head muddles into hyperactive exertion, my ears prick up once again at the melodious torrent of sound against the windows, and calmness drizzles over me. My eyes become misty with tiredness, and I resist the pull of sleep no further.