My father always said, "Put yourself to good use." Did he mean at 4 a.m.? Yikes. That takes more than a shove from my tiger cat to force me to sit upright on the edge of the bed. It's like a heave-ho, up-you-go kind of change of position.
I suppose I can write an extra hour or so and see if it takes me into a deeper state of mind. I am fresh out of work assignments from the past week, and in one way, that is a satisfactory place to be on a Saturday morning.There's freedom in exploring my own thing without word counts and deadlines.
With that heavy thought, I pad out to the kitchen and make a pot of brewed coffee while the cat watches intently for his turn at nourishment. I rustle his bowl of dry food and top it off with a few additional pellets. The water bowl is refreshed.
From the picture window the shadows loom outside on the lawn like giants sprawled out for sleep. Great. I would love to be in their shoes right about now instead of feeling a fuzzy ache of detachment within my head. Even the coffee doesn't taste right, and I drink it without any enjoyment whatsoever.
I check my email and there is a thoughtful inspirational card from a friend, and a note from someone else sharing sad news of her mother's passing. Replies are handled before I move on to my professional websites and news.
Enough with the procrastination. There's writing to be done, and a nap will be in order later, say in an hour or so hopefully. That should realign me once again with the world.
My father always said, "Tomorrow is another day." Then I am assuming I will be back to my normal routine of waking up.