a hearty buffet on the door at 10.30. i struggle out of bed and present a muddled face at the door. housing is here to measure our windows and inspect our smoke detector, but they kindly tell me to go back to bed. i do so, with indistinct and confused memories of roe deer and partridges in pear trees and warnings about garlic and dill and woke up an hour later remembering that i'd fallenl asleep on taddeo's consilia. i'd been typing it out last night to make interlinear translations and got distracted by birds. ten minutes i spent looking up bird names in the english portion of the dictionary, trying to think of all kinds of game birds - grouse? woodcock? long-legged snipe? marsh ducks? or perhaps something completely decadent like roasted whole peafowl? but then heath wrote me this morning and made me feel a complete fool. (coturnix was not in the dictionary last night, but apparently pixies came and put in an extra page. probably the same ones who took away a page from my old english dictionary, because i found a word at the start of term that i've not been able to find since.) people don't seem to understand that i want to give up this sleeping pattern, but i haven't been able to. i need to live with someone who can haul me out of bed at 6 and turn out all the lights at 11. now i keep going to sleep now at 5 in the morning (the final few hours rather disjointed though) and wake shortly before noon and make lunch and go to class at 3 and don't really remember what happened in the night.