It’s 5am. The world outside my window is dark. I’m famously NOT a morning person. But I’m up.
I’ve been awake for half an hour. That’s long enough to stagger into the kitchen and make my husband an egg sandwich while the coffee maker worked magic. It’s long enough for me to stare hopelessly into the warm coffee mug and feel the caffeine steam kiss my face.
Thirty minutes is long enough to remember that I’m not a morning person and to then subsequently remember why I’m up.