I'm not, as many of you* know, a morning person. It's 9am. Kath has been up for four hours, walked the dogs, cleaned half the house, built a fusion reactor, bridged the divide between quantum mechanics and general relativity, and fixed up the disgruntlements in the Middle East. I made coffee.**
I find myself moving through mornings like a tourist lost in the wrong part of an unstable region: nervous, confused, and hoping to get out alive. Kath is one of the good residents - not one of the fanatical evangelists who blows up and blames the evil night people for our inability to appreciate her time.***
No wonder I love her.
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*Okay, both of you.
**Mostly I made the coffee. I ground the beans and put the water in the machine, almost forgot the filter paper - saved that one - then got distracted by Walter and Hannah and forgot to pour the black life-giver. Kath poured it for me. I should add that to the list.
***When's the last time you heard a night person lambaste a morning person for 'wasting the best part of the day'?
