There's something sad about having nothing to say- when a few hours ago, I was full of ideas. And I stayed in bed rather than get up an write. I was trying to court sleep. And eventually it worked, and the brain shut off. But prior to that small miracle, there were dozens of ideas percolating around in there. Not all of them were job-related. Some were interesting, I thought.

So now it's morning, the ritual coffee cup by my side, the cat shifting around the room behind me trying to get attention, and the hband in the kitchen making his lunch. It's all good. And as it should be, I suppose. Upon short reflection, I probably wouldn't have it any other way. Nope.