Bleary Bobbus Berieved of Babylon

Topics: sleep

2013-11-22

Cleaning personell swoop around, most thriving on irritation. This may just be an illusion. There is one available socket in the *departure* lounge (before the gates, of course, since it is far too early for me to go through) to power my shittypie. It is now powering my shittypie. I lay down on a bench earlier, but the swooping human on a cleaning machine made multiple elliptic passes. I may have imagined the grin on his face. Well, I may not have.

Three hours have passed since my arrival from San Sebastian via bus. Sure, I could have left later, but I was out of items to pursue. Regardless, I wasted a bit over sixteen euros on four pintxos and two sidras before deciding to clamber to my ex-hostel, grab my suitcase, and make my way to the bus station. Signs comment that from the area of my ex-hostel, the bus station is a thirty minute journey. I am quite sure I made it in less.

I grabbed a ticket and boarded the 18.00 bus all within the twelve or so minutes I had. The bus ride was uneventful sans multiple messages with the smaller one. I also read *Quiet*.

I finished *Quiet* at the bar that stubbornly shut down its serving facilities at 21.00.

So I sit adjacent the vending machines. I'll watch this or that (you may be able to guess) to pass the time. To pass the circa seven hours of time.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0