I’ve done my journaling for the day. I wrote a couple pages on the new novel project. I have to cross things off the list early on days like this because I know that at some point later in this day, my body will remember that it has been awake a long time, that it didn’t particularly want to get up at 2:22, that the sleep it had before was punctuated and punctured by bad dreams.
I will trick it. I will feed the body a healthy breakfast. I will take it for a walk. I will convince it to drive safely, read to T.R., fold laundry. Clean, it will run longer. I will promise it rest later, after the work is done.
It will trick me. It will promise me to work harder and better if I just let it sit on the couch for a few minutes and read. It will remind me that I have lots of reading to do, that the reading is part of the work I have. And it will gently fold the book over on my chest and put me to sleep in the afternoon.
I will wake up confused, fuzzy, bewildered.
Which is to say, like I usually am.