That 11 pm Feeling

Something comes over me at 11 pm. I don't know what it is -- maybe it's the freedom of knowing everyone else in the house has gone to bed, or maybe it's the lack of natural light and visible timepieces in my room which, as in a casino, cut me off from all reminder of the outside world and lend a dreamy inconsequentiality to my actions. But if you find me wringing my hands and nursing an ulcer at ...