I imagine the sun rose beautifully over the hills today. The weeds above the trellis had been cut back, I think, making for fewer bugs and therefore, fewer bats. My house, I hope, is empty.

Monday night, we made a production, D and I, of getting me to sleep early.  It didn't work, and I got into the car on Tuesday morning and drove five miles before giving up. I didn't want to be a hazard on the road.  Yesterday, worse. But I made coffee, psyched myself up for the trip and tried again. Failed again, too.

Have I mentioned the distance? Three and a half hours from where I usually live. Not impossible, surely. I'm used to that kind of driving; just not every week. And not in middle age. Maybe not since I smashed my Civic.

Longing for the mountains, the quiet, the birds, neighbors who know me by name. That, and a good night's sleep.