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The book has driven me from sleep. Driven me from sleep and cuddling beside a perfectly, wonderful warm husband. I woke at 4 AM from a dream about football and I was either a player or a coach, but it was like I never saw myself and I was more a camera looking out, so I’m assuming I was a man, but didn’t feel different, just weird. The last of the dream was Mike Rowe from Dirty Jobs taking the helmet camera off of me, and joining the crew for a laugh at how I had marks on my forehead from the camera outfit. I do mark up easily. On that odd note the dream ended and I was left staring up into the velvet darkness with the book instantly in my head. The next scene vivid, the characters settling down to talk and all I have to do is get to a computer and catch up. By the way, the book has nothing to do with football, Mike Rowe, or Dirty Jobs. No idea where the dream came from, but it certainly didn’t dissuade, or distract me from the totally different material of my current book.

I made myself cuddle back against Jonathon’s warm skin, my favorite comfort object is my husband, but sleep was over for me. I made it until 5 AM and then I woke Jonathon enough to let him know I was getting up and he could sleep longer. We have a deal that if one of us wakes up early we let the other one know so there’s no waking up to an empty side of the bed and going, where are you? The trick is to wake them up just enough, but not too much so the other half can get back to sleep. That delicate mission accomplished I fetched my clothes from the seat at the foot of the bed where I’d had the good sense to lay them out last night and crept into the bathroom to get dressed. Now I’m here typing this while I wait for tea to finish brewing. Then I’m getting a cup and heading for my office.

Sasquatch, our pug, was still sound asleep in his crate. He seemed almost puzzled for me to wake him in the dark and totally did not want to go out in the cold night time world. He wouldn’t go forward until I brought the big flashlight onto the steps so he could see. He looked back at me as if to say, "I’m not a cat you know. I don’t do that whole see in the dark thing." I lit his way and down the steps we went. He went in as little grass as he could manage skirting the flower beds. The grass sparkled under the flashlight beam and I thought we’d finally had a hard frost, but it didn’t look quite right. So I bent down to touch the grass and found it was simply soaking wet. It hadn’t gotten cold enough for frost last night. Sasquatch is like most pugs he hates to get his feet wet. He ran out in it, and ran back as fast as possible. I barely had time to admire the stretch of black sky above me and to pick out Orion almost overhead, before he was darting past my feet. He looked back at me from up the steps as if to say, "What are you waiting on?" It certainly wasn’t my comfort loving pug.  Tea timer has sounded. Yay!

Sasquatch has persuaded me to feed him before I go to the office. I have to say that pets do impede speed of progress some mornings, but I think how would I feel if I was hungry and couldn’t use my own can opener? I can hear him happily eating, the busy jingle of his collar letting me know he appreciated me warming his soft food in the microwave before mixing it with his dry. He’s done and has come for his back scratch. Oh, and he gets his first sweater of the season. Did I mention that pugs are comfort loving dogs? Sasquatch spent yesterday huddled on the couch and wouldn’t leave it. When Jonathon sat down he immediately climbed into his lap which he doesn’t often do since Sas’s seat on the couch is on the opposite side from Jonathon’s. So when he had to get up to go back to work he covered Sas with a blanket. The dog normally doesn’t care for that unless a person is under the blanket, but yesterday he huddled under it letting us know he might be cold. When I put his sweater on him just now he didn’t protest or give me that long suffering dog look. He also trotted down the hall beside me after being sweatered with a jaunty little walk and a tightly curled happy pug tail.

A few minutes to let him digest and then one more trip out into the dark and then I can finally get to my desk. Ah! If I don’t actually get to make a few pages before our daughter has to go to school when I woke up at 4 AM with the book loud in my head I will be . . .  not happy. As it’s six, I’m running out of time. I love my dog, but without him I’d be over at my office instead of in the kitchen. You’d have a much shorter blog, but I’d be at work. I luvs my dog, and he makes me smile on days when nothing else does, but today quicker would have been nice.