THE THINGS WE DO

Up before daylight again. I had vaguely intended to move my internal clock to waking up earlier, but I don't think I had 5:15 a.m. in mind. And while drowsing and trying to get back to sleep before I actually got up, I had interesting trains of thought to follow for this morning's missal, I can't think of them now.

Now, at 7:12, after a slice of pizza and a cup of coffee, I am more ready to go back to sleep but I've got another day at the American Crossword Tournament. Will I look back on this and chuckle at the things I had to do to survive? I was on my feet a lot yesterday, picking up puzzles when they were finished. I am going to try to be a judge today instead. Plus, some of the other referees are weird in the way that subculturists can be: a bit Aspergerian and oblivious, a bit too emphatic and full of arcana ... kind of competitive and authoritarian about getting to the puzzler before anyone else.

And cheap hotels ... bad lighting, bad "art," uncomfortable furniture, ugh ... I don't enjoy being in those environments at all. I find them extremely depressing. Desperate.

Cooder has not gotten out of the rocking chair this morning; maybe it is too early for her. I have taken over her Victorian rocker, here in the dining room. Emmylou is perched in a semi-meatloaf on the edge of the dining room table (where she is not supposed to be) watching the typing. Perhaps I will be filled with more insights when I return later. This is supposed to be a half-day, so maybe I will get some sunshine and rest later. Now to shower, extra caffeinate, and get dressed ...