In this freelance writer's life, I often see 12:00, 1:00 and even 2:00 twice in the same day, but not 6:00, let alone 5:30. The phone rings, jangling away a deep sleep. I fumble for the receiver, pick it up and put it back down. It rings again, as if waiting for me to speak to be sure I'm really awake. I think about calling 9-1-1 to report attempted torture. Too sleepily unsteady to stand, I fall back into bed, trying without success to think up an excuse for not going out.
It's a good thing I put out clothes the night before, or I'd never be able to find them. Maybe if I sleep in them tonight, I can sleep another ten minutes tomorrow...
The night before, croaking frogs beside the creek sang a lullaby. By the time I get out the door in the morning, the sky is turning light and birds sing in the trees. After a cup of coffee and a few stretches, we set out on a morning walk. I'm not the only one who's a little slow, and have a good chat with a woman from the Midwest while rounding the golf course.
On the second and third mornings, I choose sleep over walking, which I can do at home any day of the week.