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Foggy at 5:15 but I hauled myself up; did my business; flang myself back down and cleaned up from the business; and perched myself in the least painful position to do some early morning gazing.  Fog here at Elder House is rain that doesn't move.  The parking lot lights capture the wet reflections and make me think of cosmic maps of very distant galaxies.  Sweet!  And such inexpensive entertainment.  Open window breezes are especially welcome.

Stretching to  my left I reach out the book I've been reading before sleep time.   Joshua,  A Parable For Our Time.  Not much to say about it.  I kept letting the writing style get in the way of the message.  I felt like I was continually being smacked over the head.  Some of the plot twists seemed improbable and unlikely.  Dialog struck me as artificial and forced.  I am looking forward to discussing the spiritual aspects with my spiritual friend.

Then I must have actually dozed off.  This rarely happens for me;  and so I was astonished when I looked at the clock.  The fog had burned off and the street lights were no longer lit.  Big hesitation on my part; but ultimately I got up and began the morning gimp ritual.  It's not that I'm lazy.  I truly welcome every new day as the gift that it is.  I just know how much it's going to hurt.

But I dress.  I brush my hair.  I gather up the detritus from the night before.  I take my morning meds.  I open the window all the way.  I pray.  I become vertical.