I didn’t used to be this groggy in the morning unless I’d been on the Powers a little too heavy the night before. Maybe it’s Andre’s sleeping pills he gave me last night that kicked in a little too late. Perhaps I just needed coffee, who knows. The reason behind the pills was still my dire need to get a decent night sleep through lack of ventilation in my room. Pills should be a last resort but stemming from my increased distrust for the cat and already well established reasons for avoiding mosquitoes, I decided to give them a go. Besides, the state Andre was in 10 minutes after taking his convinced me they work wonders. Specifically, our conversation started off like most evening chats that can easily linger on to the wee hours on topics such as politics, transportation networks or cheese. Last night however he went almost catatonically tired, unstable on his feet, slurring all his words into one and was almost dropping his cigarette into his tea every time he went to tap it in the ash tray. ‘I want whatever he took’ I thought. Well they don’t work that well on me it seems. I was awake for 2 hours longer and started writing a diary. Sleeping pills my arse.