Hypnotic in the After-Rain

Time trickling past midnight now. Slow stream of the new year, already (just) into the second day.
Sat in my room contemplating whether or not to watch the whole of 'Lets Scare Jessica to Death' on Youtube. Someone has uploaded the whole film and I've been wanting to watch it for years. Or should I sleep?
Em and myself made our way into town this afternoon. A heavy exhausting rain, whipped this way and that by the breeze. Puddles of infant flood water by the roadside. Everything cold and grey and saying that, yes, this is January.
Caught the bus home and nearly missed my stop, so caught up was I in whatever I was thinking. I can't remember what now though. Blank bus-ride.
When I came home I slept for a few hours on the sofa in the living room, only waking up to play another episode of Blakes Seven (I bought the last three seasons in CEX) before falling asleep again. After that I watched six episodes of 'Children of the Stones', a 1970s supernatural / occult series for children, originally aired at 4:30 in the afternoon, just before teatime and only an hour after Playschool... I was alone in the living room watching it, and the unnerving, oddly familiar feel of it (I definitely have not seen it before) mixed with my rainy exhaustion and new years day tiredness to create a slightly edgy atmosphere. Things flickering at the corners of my eye, a nearly-deja-vu, a soft and hyonotic dreamlike lullaby, unheard on the air.
Have the curtains open in my room. Something keeps triggering off the security light in the locked passage between this room and Drurys coffee shop. A cat, or maybe a fox.
In the darkness out there I see a sliver of yellow brown light in the one of the windows of the rooms above Drurys.
A guilty slight curve at the edges of mperfectly drawn curtains. I wonder if anyone sleeps there, or reads there, or just sits staring at the television, or maybe at nothing? Maybe it is a landing light, left on all night, and there is no-one there at all.
It has stopped raining.
I have just opened the window, stuck my head out into small hours.
Breathed the silence, breathed the night, breathed in another new year.