Mornings and I

do not get along. It's not my fault, not really. They simply arrive too early. On a typical day, at 4:30 a.m. or so I crawl into bed and read for a while to calm my brain. When I'm ready, which is usually half an hour to an hour later, I turn out the light and fall asleep quickly and easily.

At which point morning sticks its head into my life and ruins a perfectly good sleep. It's downright criminal, I tell you. With only a little consideration morning could hold off until 11:00 a.m. or so, then sneak in on tiny tendrils of light, and I wouldn't mind at all--well, not much.

Morning, of course, remains insensitive to this suggestion.

In fact, morning plans a very early assault tomorrow--rumor has it about 8:00 a.m.--so I will keep entry this short.

While I'm grousing at the universe, I should also mention that though I'm glad to see our cat, Lyra, turning affectionate, I would prefer she not again get one of her claws stuck through my shirt and in my nipple. I don't recommend you try this with your own cat. It's not fun, not fun at all.

Ah, well, enough whining. Off to Overthrowing Heaven go I.