I wake up at 2:50 AM every day.

Not that I want to by either design or purpose. Maybe it’s the boiler kicking in or some other noisy piece of machinery on a strict schedule. All I know is that I look over at the clock and see the familiar hour. Every morning.

Old Pepper sees this as an opportunity for a morning walk and heaves herself against the base of the bed when she sees me stir around. If I’m in the mood – and so is she – out the back door she goes. If not, I put on a heavy pair of sweatpants and winter jacket, then stumble out to the old oak in the front of the house.

I used to find this as an excuse to get in some screen time but that just inflamed my politics and my liver. So now I just try to imagine myself on drifting boats or playing games of skelly back in the old neighborhood.

Yesterday, we turned the clocks forward. Now I could at least sleep undisturbed at least one hour later.

Early this morning I woke up precisely at 2:50 AM.

It’s Monday. It certainly is.

garfield ringGarfield
by  Jim Davis