1:28 does, indeed, come along every morning

Tooling around here. It's very, very early and I'm awake and I'm not even drunk. Or kissing someone as a means to an end. Which are really 2 of the primary reasons to be up past midnight, ever. In fact, I'm drinking Fresca from the can and had been sorting laundry while the BBC newshour played over the clock radio and, not really finishing that task because it was too early to start the laundry anyway, came back to the kitchen table and kind of just listened to the kettle boil for a bit because it soothes me, when I noticed the cats on the ottoman so close to the fire I was jealous and had to go rub their fur, as warm as an electric blanket, and kind of wished I could curl up there too, except that there's no room on the ottoman because the cats are on it and the floor is still cold despite the fire and the steaming kettle and the thermostat at 72 degrees farenheit and it seems, tonight, that anywhere but 6 inches from the flame is going to be too cold to sleep, even the sofa that's only 18 inches away, and the bed is a whole 2 rooms away and around a corner and, even with a down comforter, should be made up with the flannel sheets when it's 11 dry degrees outside but really feels like a minus-4 with the wind, except that I haven't done the laundry yet and no one is going to do it but me and I'm not going to go down into that concrete basement right now for anything and besides, even though it's 1:28 a.m. again and I'm going to dread the waking at 6:45, if I do choose to sleep, it's just more comfortable here at the table, in my black wool hat and my pajamas, with the cats and the steam and the fire and the loveline on my Fresca can.