Saturday Morning

Hard to know why Ed wakes up so early. Somewhere between four and five, usually. He walks into the bedroom and starts whining at the side of the bed. So you roll out, trying not to wake Nora, and Ed follows you into the kitchen. Sometimes Simon follows, if he’s not curled down next to Nora’s knees. You check their food and water and litter boxes, put a little more wood into the stove, close the door between the kitchen and hallway, and go back to bed.

That often doesn’t help much. You’re awake, churning, trying all the meditative practices to clear your mind. But a writer’s mind is never clear, really.

So you get back up and dressed this time, make coffee, and start the day. Whatever it was that the cats wanted before is lost to us all—Simon’s curled in front of the fire, Ed on a kitchen chair, Nora still asleep.

You can get some decent work done.

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