In the middle of the night I awakened feeling I'd been asleep for hours. It was 42 minutes since I had turned my light out. And the time up to then had been slippery. While I toured the Metropolitan Museum of Art with the Kincaid children it slithered and crept. Although it was 9:36 when I started to read, somehow the clock said nearly midnight when I closed the book. Strange goings on.

So now, I sit here, book and journal both at hand. I have read, I have written, my mind has wandered the halls of Everywhere One Goes In the Night. I am still awake. I will not be so tomorrow, or rather later today, but really there's not much I can do about it now. Experience has taught me it's easier to just get up and do something than to lie abed tossing and sighing. Besides being up doesn't waken Pieman who has been working awfully hard. And one can usually find time for a nap on a Sunday afternoon. Usually.

I suppose I could make some soothing chamomile tea but then I'd have to use the facilities which would wake me again and besides 1) I don't like chamomile tea and 2) I don't have any. See reason 1. Coffee isn't a good option under the circumstances.

The good news is I didn't plant my frost sensitive seeds just before today's snow even though the weather this past month has been unseasonably gorgeous and seed-planting tempting.

So happy dreams to all you slumberers.