Sleepless in Solitude

  I had a feeling I wouldn't get to sleep tonight, and it's not because I saw Miley twerking.  I'd read about the second arrest in the bludgeoning battering murder of the World War 11 veteran, how he was shoved down in between the seats of his car.  I started thinking that awful as it is to have to face death, I really hope I don't die from murder.  From the other room the dishwasher clunked, a strange and different sound.  Another noise---I think a squirrel ran across the roof.  I've seen one several times on the roof when I'm in our driveway.  But are squirrels nocturnal?
 I'd been watching Jay Leno earlier with guest Jeff Daniels, and the interview was so full of contrived anecdotes that it bored me, so I turned to Craig Ferguson.  But he was spending too much time on Secretariat, which also bored me.  I've been clearing the last 16 years of collected paperwork out of my house.  (The recycling bin now out front is overflowing.) I came across one of those sheets with what looks like abstract markings where you stare for 20 seconds or so at the 2 dots in the middle, and then look at the wall, and the face of Christ appears.  I've never understood the mystery or mechanics of that phenomenon, and even more remarkable is how the heck anyone could have come up with that; somebody brilliant,  or freaky, or a brilliant freak? 
   Then I remembered that I hadn't had supper, or lunch for that matter, only those dangblasted cookies, the leftover broken ones, so I am eating the only food left in the house--frozen yogurt with too much syrupy chocolate in it, even though chocolate tends to give me a headache and I might be developing lactose intolerance in my later years. 
     I have to get up fairly early tomorrow (today) to drive my meager and measly collection of artifacts to the Fair.  I entered enough to be comped with a free one-day pass, which right now I'm not sure I'll even use---though I'm very anxious to see David Blaine, but disappointed that the racing pigs won't be there.  Or will they?