Twenty seven degrees is seasonable for three hours past a DC January midnight, but is an unreasonable temperature for an insomniac to sit outside and try to force thoughts from brain to fingers to computer keys. I have little hope that cold air in my lungs or words on a screen will help me find restful sleep for the first time in a fortnight but what else do I have to do?
As I sit here, I am struck by the complete stillness of this night, like the air is being too stubborn to move. Only manualy driven wisps of my cigar smoke move in the darkness. Ideas do not come, words refuse to form, and sleep keeps mocking me.
An hour is enough.
Oh yeah, since it is Wednesday, I took my turn as contributing editor at DC Blogs. Go on – check out that which moved me more than most this past week.