There's no reason for me to be awake right now. The Sox game is over and we lost. I didn't sleep in today. Work was long and in its way exhausting. I had a big dinner: a curry. My last cup of coffee was lunchtime - well over twelve hours ago. I'm in the middle of a book, and it's good, but not the sort of page-turner that keeps me up. So I don't really understand it. My head keeps fumbling with mental knots as soon as I shut my eyes. Then my bed feels too warm but it's chilly lying on top of the duvet. And so I sit here and am not surprised that the cat isn't lying at the bottom of my bed anymore. Restless bedfellows are no fun and he knows it. He must be tired because usually when I wake up at this hour he's here in a flash for a quick cuddle and probably the chance of a snack (he never gets the snack, not at this hour).
To be fair, it's not the latest I've been up of late. There's been the odd 4am and 6am finish, mostly seen along the way with copious quantities of Madeira, beer, whisky and whatever. Tequila too, though that was an early night. The bonfires have raged into the wee hours of the morning and I've still got the odd sand-coated, smoke-reeking article of clothing needing seen to. I've flown to Boston and back and Dublin and back since my last post, which was far too long ago. I've seen the odd sunrise and missed the odd sunset. I've not written any words of consequence, but I've thought of quite a few.
The cat's still hiding. Once I find my peace he'll pop in and pad my nose and purr and try to get comfortable. Until then I'm left with just my ponderings.
Sometimes there's clarity at this time of the night. Sometimes there's blurriness and confusion.
And sometimes there's just enough of both to keep you awake too long.