i have not been getting enough time alone.

sitting up, wide-eyed, in bed at 4am doesn't count. jet lag is not time alone. it is purgatory.

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This house has 3 guards. Two are young and seem to be buddies. They chill together, unfortunately during the day, although we�ve specifically asked for 2 guards at night. I think the leftover guard is defacto on night duty by himself. I'm not sure. Although i am ostensibly in charge (i.e. i pay the bills), the workings of this house are a mystery to me.

There is a metal coffin-like box on the side of the house. I think the old guard sometimes goes to sleep there after we�ve all gone to bed. In my insomnia, I hear him pacing around the house from time to time. I hear him cough cough haaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwk a few times an hour.

This old guard is senile or odd or lonely or all of the above. He encroaches on our space, shadowing us around the house, coming up to the windows to speak in amharic. He ignores or doesn't understand my mimed actions indicating my lack of comprehension. My feeble "amharic, nay" is similarly ignored.

He is poor, they all are. He asks for things. Food, money, shoes. He isn�t nice to the dog. I can�t ask him to leave because I know he is poor, and also there is a part of me that worries about making any of these men mad at me. They know all the vulnerabilities of this house. It is not a relationship I know how to navigate.

5:54 p.m. - 2010-09-16