As I begin to write, it is precisely 1.08 in the morning, and my neighbours have just started vacuuming.
I know I'm not hallucinating this because the sound of a vacuum is often what wakes me up on a Sunday morning (around 6.30 in the morning, to be precise). I hear the whine of the electric motor, its pitch changing subtly as it labours against different floor types. I hear the occasional scrape of the vacuum head on the skirting boards. I hear it rattle as it's forced underneath furniture and jiggled for what I can only assume they believe to be 'maximum effect'.
I'm not quite sure what I'm doing up at this ungodly hour (other than having various story elements nagging at me), but I'm pretty sure it's time for me to go to bed.
Perhaps I should get up in a few hours, and do my vacuuming.
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