I woke with a start at the edge of morning while it was still dark. And it was. Pitch black. My heart was racing, but there was no dream in memory that could have prompted it. I reached for my bedside lamp and turned it on. It’s a gift, isn’t it, when the electricity works? The utilities in my new home being what they were, I was quickly learning gratefulness for those little things.

There was nothing out of place. I looked at my watch. It was 4:00. Some people go to work at this time of day, I reasoned. I certainly wasn’t in the mood to return to pitch black.

I was dressed and at my computer, files spread on the table, and a cup of coffee accompanied by a lemon poppy seed scone next to it by 4:30. I’d stocked up on scone ingredients before I left the city. Don’t judge. It’s harder to think freely or analyze when feeling emotional, and I needed both in my work. Scones were my way to rise above the fear I had felt upon waking. Emotional eating has its uses. Due to my early start, I finished for the day by early afternoon.

I was by now in the habit of using my afternoons to (try to) fix the broken down mess I’d bought, and was accomplishing at least a little. I had reconstructed my front porch. That was somewhat of an accomplishment, I assured myself. I’d pulled down cupboards, sanded and painted them, and somehow gotten them back in place so my dishes didn’t slide toward the cupboard door like they had at first. You have no idea the pleasure it is to open a cupboard door without bracing for destruction. This afternoon, I’d pushed and pulled and carried everything out of the living room whose floors I planned to sand as my evening entertainment.

In the meantime, I brought my box of the things retrieved from the hole in the wall, sat on the porch to await the sunset, and mulled over loose connections floating around in my brain.

I got to bed later than usual. Sanding can be a messy project. One board, in particular, had given me terrible trouble until I realized it had been pulled up and nailed down again. It didn’t take much to pull it up, and what I discovered had kept me awake until the wee hours.

to be continued . . .

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