The Rough with the Smooth

It was a warm night last night.

For the first time when I lay down to sleep it occured to me that I could open the windows.
It has to get very warm for me to want this because my house is within cowering distance of three main roads - two major A-roads and a motorway. By ten at night the noise is bearable, but when it kicks in again at 6.30am, if the windows are open, I have the UK's awakening industrial behemoth for my alarm clock.
The only trouble is that it's set for half six in the morning, which I think you'll agree is far too early for an alarm clock to be set, even one which consists of thirty thousand vehicles roaring along at seventy miles per hour.

But a stuffy and close atmosphere is not conducive to sleep, so you take the rough with the smooth. I opened the windows a sliver, and hit the sack.
A high pitched whining dopplered past my ear.

Damn.
Insects.

With the special kind of logic which only really works when you're in the early stages of sleep or in that cumbersome process of waking, I reasoned that I didn't have to get up to shut the window, even taking into account the bugs. The noise stopped rather abruptly, anyway.

I'm crap at housekeeping. It's summer. I have spiders. Actually, I thought, relaxing into the pillow, I have lots of spiders. The persistently annoying mathematical part of my brain tried to spark interest in working out how long the midge could fly around the room before being snared by one of my eight-legged roommates, but the rest of my brain gagged it and threw it into a handy hypothetical cupboard before falling asleep.