An hour ago, I awoke to the bright sunshine streaming through my bedroom windows, feeling thirsty and noticing a slight headache from too many glasses of red wine at Dave’s fabulous housewarming party last night. It seemed too early to get out of bed, given we didn’t venture home from the festivities until the wee hours of the morning. As I considered whether to give in to the sunshine or hide under the covers, a text message arrived on my cell phone. I crawled over to the other side of the room to read the message from my sweet, who is visiting a friend in Berlin for the weekend. I smiled and decided to officially start my morning. I made breakfast (oatmeal, orange juice and coffee) and turned on my computer to check my e-mail. I read news of a friend of a friend’s brand new baby girl and skimmed the headlines of the New York Times. I switched on NPR and caught a bit of On the Media while I finished my coffee. I thought about putting on my painting clothes to help friends paint their new apartment today. But then I settled into my favorite jeans instead, remembering that these friends were also at last night’s party, and probably won’t consider painting anything until later this afternoon. And here I am, one hour later, hoping to curl up and continue making a dent in the long book I’m reading, before the rest of the morning slips away.

You can read the last hour of others here.