After the sleepy mess that was yesterday I crashed very early and was up for Saturday at six this morning.

It was an uncommonly productive day.

I realized before the sun came up that it was going to be sunny and glorious and well above sixty degrees–but also that after this halcyon, it would drop to 40 tonight, and then stay in the forties, day and night, for the next several rotations. With rain besides. Lots of rain. Maybe even a little snow.

No real relief for it in sight even on the 10-day forecast.

So I loved the sun while it lasted. I dragged carpets out and whacked them. I worked my way through the little rental house, deeply cleaning and weeding. I set my space up to be as productive as possible in the dark days to come.

I took a bath, and tonight for the first time in decades, I’m going to sleep in a sleeping bag, just to make sure it does the same job it used to do, under ideal conditions. Testing of the gear.

I listened to the playoff games too. The Niners advanced. The Chargers fell off their horses in spectacular fashion.

None of it signified as much as the beaten temple carpets and the slow aching semi-conscious seiðr of intentional daily living.

Ten-thirty. I’m crashy and I’m glad I am. The REI Polar Pod, tall version, calls to me like a Sirena.