A Disused Waiting Room in a Ragged Hotel

The house emits a sense of gloomy edginess, for little apparent reason. Last night I lay under siege in my room, slipping into slightly anxious dozing, waking up with a start, and the yellow of the overhead light seeming dull and dazed and headachey. There was a certain sense of coldness about the rooms, and the living room itself seemed decidedly unfriendly. It was laughable that anyone could relax in there. It felt abandoned and unhomely, a disused waiting room in a ragged hotel. I spent the evening in my room, listening to music (The Ravenous,F.U.C.T,Sonic ViolenceEzekiel Honig) and reading a story - which is seeming to tske me forever - called 'The Things' in 'Best SF 24', my first foray, surprisingly, into the realms of literary science fiction.
Ten minutes until I leave for work. I hope that the atmosphere of the house has righted itself by the time I return tomorrow night - or, to be more accurate, I hope that my internal atmosphere has righted itself by then.