Overheard on Pine, between Molly Moon's and Velo: "Music sounds better with my penis inside you."

Trite, I know. Still:

Me: Howzit
Tom: Pretty good! The kids are "camping" in the backyard tonight."
Tom: Which reminded me—we haven't planned our hiking trip yet. Doh.
Tom: Welcome back, also.
Tom: When can I visit and get the scoop? :-)
Tom: F*cking cat just sprayed my tent!

Awesome!

When we returned, we delighted in being temporary morning people. We woke at dawn, wide awake. That first week, we enjoyed leisurely breakfasts at sit-down restaurants in the wee hours before we had to be at work. Sure, the afternoon was a bitch, but it always is in its peculiar circadian way and was nothing that a strong double espresso couldn't ward off. We crashed at nine, in awe of being unable to stay awake. "This is what's it's like being a morning person!" We knew it was temporary and had the good sense to relish it while it lasted. On the weekend following our return, we beat brunch crowds by hours, having the sleepy-eyed servers to ourselves and experiencing the odd need to eat three meals on Saturday and Sunday.

Slowly, we slipped back into our old schedule. Now I'm back where I always am, awake and regretting it.

And I've just completed a work week as frenetic as they come. There were an unusual number of meetings across the drink, the to and fro of which throws off the schedule to an irretrievable degree. I surrendered my evenings to catching up and to delivering on obligations, such that now, at the end of the week and on the cusp of a holiday weekend, I relish the release of my professional, obligated self into several dry cocktails at a neighborhood restaurant.

Here we go, into a long, long weekend.