After the scaffolding went away, people would still occasionally appear outside my windows. They'd ride the mobile people-shelves up and down the building, stopping every couple of floors to drill loudly, to scrape at brick. I never knew when they were coming. They'd be gone for two weeks and then I'd hear mysterious banging noises from the sidewalk and the winch-hoisting would start. I started to expect it, every time I heard some kind of ruckus below the window I would check to see if it was them. It wasn't always, but it was most of the time. I don't know when it stopped. It must be about six weeks now. This morning I heard a clang and assumed right away that it was just the gate to the doctor's office downstairs. The mobile people-shelvers weren't even a possibility. Winter is nearly here and they are gone forever.

Yesterday was a perfectly good Sunday, but I watched a lot of Bleak House over the weekend, and maybe it's had an adverse effect. Last night I had a weird little breakdown. I couldn't go to sleep because my head was full of times when I felt vulnerable to other people and things I said then, or ways that I was. I was frustrated over the pointlessness of trying to open up to people when they don't even get it or seem to know how much it matters to me because I don't know how to do it right, because I can't stop backing up the whole time. I just want to take back everything I've ever said, I want to take back every minute I sat there in the dark, because it mortifies me now. Basically, I couldn't sleep last night because I want to erase certain memories from certain minds, but I don't have a machine that does that. Also, in Bleak House people keep dying, and it shakes me up every time. About five deaths in six hours is too just much for me.

I'll be a lot more cheerful in a few hours, I just have to get there.