I said before I might pay the price for drinking coffee so late (relative to NY time, I mean) in the evening. I am paying the price as I type. It’s now 11:20pm Seattle time, or 2:22am New York time, and I have to wake in about five hours and half hour (even typing that doesn’t look correct; I need a ruling, is it “a half hour,” or “half hour.” Doolies has been trying to convince me of her Chinese way of dropping the indefinite article for a while now, and since I’ve seen it in print, I might be willing to give in if I can verify).

The view from my hotel room is rather spectacular. If I were a few rooms over, I’d be looking straight down Times Square. As I sit now, I see many large buildings and the lights of Times Square. I’m on the 39th floor of the Sheraton Towers on West 53rd street and 6th avenue.

I’m going to try to get a few hours of sleep so I can at least say I tried when I’m nodding off in class tomorrow. If I didn’t have such a delicate constitution, I wouldn’t have to worry about these things. First a boring childhood, and now this, how will I ever survive? (Yes, thanks for all your comments. I know my childhood wasn’t that bad, and I know that most childhoods are just as inane and useless as mine was. I was expelling exhaust. Stop taking everything I write so seriously. It’s as if you’re all nervous I’m going to think worse of myself than I already do. Trust me that would be almost impossible.)