melt not in weeping, while she lies sleeping, softly, now softly lies, sleeping. // John Dowland
I realized in my foggy head that I was completely entwined in my bed, engrossed in it’s softness of fur and space. I awoke not to the sound of my old school alarm but to the rain drops tapping on my window pane.
I finally slept past 7 on this weekend, my normal routine postponed for a day, no gym, work until noon, calls, or conversations. Time for once to think in a cloud of nothingness, while moving slowly to MS MR as I prepared my coffee.
I pulled the blinds open to see the normal misty rain in Seattle, and to the right I saw “Easy Street Records” one of my favorite places in the states, with their twirling sign saying “Thank You” to their loyal customers before leaving due to the raise in rent.
Sad but known, I finished making my breakfast, embraced a warm shower, finally replied to emails, read the BBC news with a twinge of sadness and then decided it was time to turn on my phone and return from my much needed little vacation.