I had a hard time sleeping the other night. It started around midnight, long after my wife and all the animals had gone to sleep. Indeed, I had drifted off at 8:30 or so. We are early to bed and early to rise, although I steal several hours in the dead of most nights to read, the purest of solitary pleasures.
So I awoke, and lay abed for a spell trying to drift away. It was quiet. I puzzled over legal problems in some of my cases. When they were sorted and left to percolate, I tossed and turned again. I wasn’t troubled; no, I was excited. I couldn’t stop thinking about several of the books I’ve been reading in recent weeks, and how eager I was to begin another.
