Quiet Solitary Mornings

Most of the time, I'd rather get up with Kate. But sometimes, especially early in the morning, getting up alone to a quiet house is very nice. Especially on work days. I appreciate the time to be with my thoughts, to get myself prepared, to move slowly and methodically. I like the feeling that somehow you're stealing hours from the day that don't normally exist. Like you're existing in some sort of time bubble, sealed off from a world in suspended animation. A lone consciousness piercing a sleeping planet.

It's why I've always liked arriving really early for work, before anyone else gets in. Leaving proportionally early at the end of the day never seems to work out, though. Probably because the rest of the world is unaware of the extra two or three hours I managed to stash in a 24 hour day.

Of course it's really only special when it happens occasionally. Frequency breeds familiarity, and I'd rather sleep anyway.

Saturday Mornings

I wake up.  Not to an alarm.  Not to any pressing engagements.  I wake up when my body is ready.  Or not.  In that moment, when you first open your eyes and realize that there's absolutely nothing stopping you from closing them again, that moment is bliss.

Saturday mornings are the crown prince of arbitrary time divisions.  Friday nights are a very close second, like the bastard brother of Saturday mornings, tainted only by the fact that they follow directly after a full work day.  And I haven't experienced this yet, but I suspect the King of waking daily segments would be the first Monday morning after retirement.  That is the Emperor of Mornings, a messiah to your misspent work hours.  I would imagine.

For now I'm happy with Saturday mornings.  It's not like the other six are all that bad.  Sunday is much like Saturday, although with a bitter punch line.  And Monday through Friday, while bothersome, have their charms.  Ultimately, I think all six of them exist as a foil for Saturday morning.  That moment, lying in my bed, relishing your freedom, is made possible only by contrast.

Only three more days to go.

The Sound of Rain

This is a quick one today, as it's almost two in the morning.

I really like the sound of rain striking our skylight.  I find it very comforting.  Especially a light rain, and especially in the morning.  The quiet patter it creates helps ease me into full consciousness.  It feels as if the outside world is waking up and moving at the same slow, steady pace I am.  Maybe it has something to do with our primal connection to our mother's heartbeat in the womb.  I'm no psychologist or obstetrician, so I don't know.

There's a light rain hitting the glass right now, and I wish I could hear it from the bedroom.  I suspect it would do a nice job of lulling me to sleep as well.