We were at the house late last night, building desks and filling drywall holes. I decided not to sleep in this morning, because I needed the time to get work done, although I also needed sleep to get it done properly. There are mailouts to complete, statement stuffers to design, bitmaps to vectorize, and countless other things for which I’m responsible. I convinced myself that I’ve (begrudgingly) gone through enough torturing days of little sleep for someone else, so it would be more appropriate if I did it for myself now.

Stepping outside, the chill of winter morning still in the air against the early light of spring, I skipped nine tracks until Claudio started singing, in his shifting, melodic voice:

Bye bye beautiful
Don’t bother to write

My lethargy turned into energy, as I thought of how things have worked out based on the decisions I made. How I could die happy right now, although I’d prefer to wait at least two weeks if given the choice.

The way I seem to have everything I deserve, and nothing that I don’t.