Waking rested in the dawn, the clock said six-something. But when I looked again a moment later, now it read 10. Four evaporated hours of timeless invisible sleeping; my body must have needed it. This time I did roll over and up out of bed. To make the coffee, to feed the kittens.

Even pale and cloud-filtered as it was, stepping out into the light felt like such a healing.

I’m going to go back into the bedroom whenever the need for sleep consumes me, but now I’m going to start setting an alarm again. Not to be on time at some vapid job, but to be caffeinated before the first rays of that light.

Six-ten feels about right for now for rising, to catch the early dim rays of seven.

Let’s watch and see.