sleeping, reading

It's dark and rainy outside. Except for all the leaves on the shrubs and trees, it could be a November day. I like this kind of variety in the weather.

Yesterday I felt underslept after a semi-sleepless night. I'd got up at about 2:30 to come down to the living-room and read for an hour. Except for the lack of sleep, I kind of enjoy getting up in the middle of the night. All is quiet and dark, and there are no expectations on one at that time--it is truly your own time. Over two glasses of cranberry juice I read a book I bought at Chapters on the weekend: Caesar: The Life of a Colossus by Adrian Goldsworthy. So far: excellent. I'm highlighting most of every page. Although the book is big, Goldsworthy wastes no time--every word tells. He's a very good writer of history.

Last night I took half a Sleep Aid, and slept very well. Indeed, I was greedy for more when the alarm went off at 5:30, but had to get up.

Now: on with the day. It is so dark out there it could almost be night, with the shrubs gleaming dully in the light of a full moon.