I woke up warm and snuggly, having yanked the comforter up to my chin in my sleep as the night air cooled, to a purring cat hitting me in the head asking for breakfast. (He really does hit, by the way. Curls his paw into a little fist and punches. For such a small critter, he packs a wallop.)
It was early when I first opened my eyes, and I briefly entertained the notion of rising then and there, to have a little extra time; but laziness won and I dozed for another hour until the alarm blared, by which time Simon had convinced himself of his imminent death by starvation and rivaled the alarm for sounding...well, alarming.
Mist covered the world when I left my porch and walked to the car, having spent most of my morning journaling and praying, and ten minutes actually getting ready (I used to require two hours to prepare in the morning. I used to drive my father nuts. Now? Ten to twenty minutes, depending on the routine). I breathed in the strange tang of cloud and wet grass, I drenched my sandaled feet in dew, I looked around at the vague and hazy world, and everything was new.
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