I'm currently sitting alone in an empty house, tapping away at an email using my newly-replaced keyboard. It has a certain springiness to it that my fingers are appreciatively lapping up. My sole light source is that of a fixture in the hall way; one that has a tendency to give off a buzzing noise. Sometimes I find the noise madness-inducing, whereas at other times I find it strangely soothing. Right now it thankfully falls into the latter category.

I thought I was going to hear from/do something with various other Pickering-ites tonight, but at this point in the evening it seems rather doubtful that such things will come to fruition. I don't mind too much though, and in fact didn't even bother to phone around, because I figured I needed the time to work on the aforementioned email (which, upon completion, will travel across the long tubes of the internet to you, my dear Alejandro). I've been working on it for the past 3 hours or so (though not without frequent breaks for pointless internet perusal) and it's perhaps half finished, currently standing at 3200 words. I'll probably soon cease work on it for the night, and make some sort of snack. I begin work tomorrow, so a decent bed time is a must.

While tonight hasn't been a complete waste, it certainly isn't exactly an ideal way to spend one's time. Self-reflection (and its subsequent transference to text) seems like only a marginally more respectable to whittle away the time than my other solitary options for the night.

I wonder if I'll do anything productive or worthwhile this summer.