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I come bearing gifts of coffee and almond croissants! Groan. That was 10 minutes ago. I now listen to how Dave can use the brick wall next to my bed like a pumice stone on his callus. Yuck. Stop that. I see his feet hanging toward the ladder as he ponders his decent down into the world and towards breakfast. The cats are up and swirling, waiting like fuzzy tropical storms. My bamboo thicket whispers peacefully in the morning breeze. Dave avoids tripping on the cats, stealthy ignores breakfast and liquid caffeine and picks up the latest issue of National Geographic from the previous tenant’s subscription. Killer Hurricanes. My blueberry turnover is surprisingly tasty. The apple and pineapple flavors were sold out at the bakery. I was up earlier, but in the garden: trimming the encroaching sumac vine from the neighbor’s yard, watering my new plants, and sweeping weed tree seeds off my deck. My pastry and iced decaf are defiantly a nice reward.

We didn’t get that much sleep. At least I didn’t. Once I wake up in the morning, when light is shining thought the window, my brain kicks in with all the things I want to do. Continued napping is not an option. I wish it we’re so, especially when I go to bed at 2am and open my eyes at 6:44am. It’s worth it today though. The morning is so beautiful and quiet and the show last night was terrific. We went to the Mercury Lounge to see the Walk-Ups. They happened to be pretty mediocre. But Hey Tiger made it all worthwhile. I think the lead singer listened to a little too much Ani DeFranco back in the day. Her inflections and power are very similar, but she adds a little original bluesiness to things that makes it okay. And she’s all grrrrrr. She is the band. In fact, I forgot the band was there. If she writes the songs herself, she’s going to make it. I heard that they won some sort of competition to open for Bon Jovi in Chicago. Silly.