It’s 6:16AM local time, and I am sprawled on turquoise cotton sheets, wondering how it is that I’ve yet to sleep. I’ve tossed, I’ve turned. I’ve paced the floor. I’ve even yawned a time or two, but I cannot muster enough drowsiness to drift out of consciousness and give my body the rest it’s going to be begging me for in a few hours. I am frustrated. I am cranky. And I am very, very hungry. I don’t suppose I need to question why I’m not sleeping. Anyone who luxuriates in dreams until 12:15pm can’t expect them to come readily the next evening. But I certainly didn’t mean to sleep that late, and there’s something in me that pipes up about the unfairness of consequences for mistakes we don’t know we’re making.

Then again, it’s more often a case of consequences ignored than ignorance of consequences, so I suppose I’ll take these in stride and enjoy the flirting, purple-grey clouds compete for my attention against the soft, rising peach of the sun. Ah, Beauty.