It Feels Too Early

I've been up for, oh, half an hour, but I've been waking up since 6:15 and it still feels too early to be awake. I used to be a night owl, then I was a lark, now I'm neither, I like to go to bed early and get up late. I'm blaming my anti-depressant but I suspect it's just me. Today's payday, I should be eager to be up and at work but since I had a snow day last week it'll be a third smaller so that's kind of eh. It'll be good to be at work, maybe a bunch of people will come in to buy stuff and make me feel useful. That'd be good, right? I've had a low-grade case of the non-specific blahs lately, I'd like to get over those. I'm working on it. It's still so darned cold--low teens--but sunny. Sunny is good, warm and sunny is better. I'm counting on Lexington being warmer this weekend.

March 27--Iran, Armlet. Hank gave his dive gear a perfunctory dunk in the dive shop's rinse tank, packed it still dripping into his dive bag, and drove back to his villa apartment. Once inside he pulled out his BC and started to take his gatherings out of the pockets but then he looked at the windows. They ran all across the front along the walkway from the parking spots to the beach. Everyone walked by and they all glanced in calling greetings. He stood up and drew the blinds. Let them wonder why good ol' Hank was suddenly quiet. He'd say that he'd forgotten his hat and sunglasses for the boat and got a headache. Yeah, that's what he'd tell anyone nosy enough to ask. He went back to his task, pulling out a wad of plastic and cloth and fishing line all tangled around the gold bracelet. He threw out the trash which smelled like dead fish already and put the bracelet to soak in a bowl in the sink. He hung his wet dive gear on the pegs out on his back patio, mopped up the puddle it had made on the tile floor, and went back to staring at the bracelet. How was he going to get it off the island without getting caught? They x-ray everything these days. He pulled out a Polar beer from his fridge, took a big slug and was inspired. He'd go down to the market and buy a bunch of cheap bracelets, like for presents back home, and tuck the gold one in with them in his suitcase. Who would take the time to examine each and every one? He took his sweating beer out to his patio table and leaned back with a smile. Everything under control.

Don't you think Hank's a bit too confident? He's cruisin' for a bruisin'.
--Barbara