A late Tuesday morning greets me as I stumble out of bed after a sleep tossed night. Half a tub of cream cheese spread and a packet of saltines is not a good bedtime snack, apparently. But when you are retired, it matters little. Early or late, the world still goes on with or without me.
The routine either way is to pour a cup of coffee, and stagger down the hall to the studio and peek into your world. A fast scan of US news, then world news, and a special Middle East newsfeed. Then the blogs, and finally facebook, text messages and emails.
A period of coffee sippin’ and musing follows that, and perhaps a journal will follow. Most of my journals I call the coffee is good journals. A period beginning with the soft fog of morning reverie, and slowly solidifying into a plan of action for the day. I try to not have any contact with people until I am coherent, around ten a.m., and so my emails and telephone calls are much later in the day.
My lawn is mowed, and I can look with satisfaction out into a neat and orderly universe of swifts darting inches above the ground, mocking birds mimicking piercing calls and arguing with the cardinals. Kippur the Budgie fussing and scolding me. She is in the middle of another molt, and gets real cranky during them.
Another ten minutes, and morning talk radio will automatically kick on, and once again, the world will intrude into my little corner of paradise. But such is our world.