Lesson 3: The perfect time of day....

....seems to be 12:48 a.m.

I just looked down at the clock on the corner of my screen and there, again, it was.

(I knew there was a reason I was still up.)  

Tonight I'm functioning better in this space and time than last night.  Alert. Un-nauseated. Checking the NY Times website. Distracted.  Funny, since today unfolded in a near-mirror of yesterday, right down to the late-afternoon iced red-eye and inappropriate supper (strawberries, wheat thins and several handfuls of GoLean washed down with the dregs of the white zinfandel bottle, while helping my friend M pack to move).

Power yoga this noon might have something to do with the clarity.  God save power yoga ... its deep cleansing breaths, warrior poses and mantras about not fearing fear.

Tonight also included a chat with a FWAB who is deeply enamored with his girlfriend. Several months into dating and I can't speak for her, but he is still giddy. Last night was the 10th night in a row they had slept in the same bed, he told me.  And it had been comfortable rest.

"Now," he added, wry grin. "It's almost going to be weird, the nights we don't sleep together!"

Clock has ticked up to 1:21 and I'm trying to figure how to wrap this up. If I had a man waiting or wanting to sleep comfortably next to me, like hell would I be sitting on this patio in (yet another night of) chill drizzle, writing or even thinking about writing.

Yes.  I am jealous much.